


Dream Team vs The Ink Machine

by BrownieFox



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Gen, Hell's Studio AU, Mixed with canon, i guess we'll go with that, joeys just kinda mentioned, sam-swap au, swap au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-05-17 04:27:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 40,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14825234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrownieFox/pseuds/BrownieFox
Summary: Hell’s Studio’s Sammy Lawrence finds himself in the dangerous of the canon studio, no sign of the one he knows in sight.Good thing Henry needs all the help he can get.Spin-off of sorts of this fic:here





	1. The Start of Something Insane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammy and Henry meet. Of course, they know each other, but they've never met the people before either of them.

Henry sighed a bit as Sammy made his way towards the door. It was quite obvious the man had completely lost it at some point over the past thirty years, driven insane and desperate and… inky. He wasn’t really sure whether the sigh was relief at no longer having the man leaning so far into his personal space, or sadness at the man’s fate.

But then, to Henry’s surprise, Sammy stopped short, mid-stride. He made an odd, almost choking like sound as his hand flew to his chest, grabbing at the ink there, fingers sinking in a bit.

“Wh-”

And then, just like that, Sammy burst. Like a water balloon, or one of the searchers upon taking one too many blows. A few flecks of ink managed to make it all the way to Henry, splattering across his face, and Henry grimaced. He’s probably going to need to start getting used to being covered in ink constantly, but now was not the time to start worrying about that too much, seeing as Sammy wasn’t gone. He was still exactly where he had been, though he was doubled over now, coughing up a concerning about of ink.

And oh yeah. He had a face. And skin and hair and real eyes. He was still wearing a pair of old overalls, but he looked rather… okay, all things considered. Smudged with ink, but not made of ink.

“I swear, Joey, if that-” Sammy started, but then cut himself off as he opened his eyes and stared at his hands. He opened and closed them, rubbing the fingers against each other, turning them over. And then he fell back on his butt and laughed, a couple of tears cascading down his face. “Oh my god it worked, it actually worked!”

“Uh… Sammy?” Henry dared to get the man’s attention.

“Yeah Hen- What Are You Doing?” Sammy’s odd good mood that had existed not a second ago dissipated, a familiar scowl on his face.

“Nothing of my own volition.” Sammy cocked one of his eyebrows but didn’t respond to that, slowly pushing himself back to his feet and looking around. “... could you maybe help untie me?”

Still looking warily at the ruins of the studio, Sammy approached Henry and undid the bonds. The animator immediately went over and grabbed his axe, sizing up Sammy a bit more, but Sammy wasn’t paying too much attention to him. Instead, he was staring down at the odd pentagram-esque circle where Henry had previously been standing.

“Did Joey do this?” Sammy sounded more… exasperate than Henry thought he may be. What with all of the ‘The Creator Lied To Us’ plastered on just about every other wall, Henry would’ve expect a bit more hate in his voice. And there was some anger, definitely anger, but not really hate.

“I’ve begun to assume so.”

“What do you mean ‘assume’? Do you know anybody else covering the studio in pentagrams for the sake of toons?” Sammy dragged a foot - a barefoot, ink-stained - across the outermost circle, smudging it.

Before Henry could say anything in response to that, there was a sound not unlike Sammy ‘popping’ just a few minutes before, and Henry spun around to see a few new springs of ink in the room. He’d love to say he was surprised, but with every moment fewer and fewer things were coming as surprises to him.

“What the hell are those?!” Sammy shouted as the searchers pulled their way out, desperately and eagerly crawling towards the two of them. Henry rolled his shoulders, rather used to this by now, and started swinging his axe. The searchers were defeated in short time, but an unearthly howling scream kept either of the men from relaxing.

“I don’t think now is going to be the best time to explain.” Sammy seemed to catch onto the urgency, shutting up and following behind Henry as he made them a path forward. It was quiet, far too quiet as they made their way to the nearest available door. Before they could even start wading through ink, however, things got a whole lot worse.

Henry made an odd sound between a growl and shout as the skeletal mistake of nature and ink that a blind person may mistake for Bendy twisted his way out of the dark pool, spider-webbing black spilling out onto the walls around him. Sammy yelped as Henry spun around, grabbing his wrist with his free hand and running back in the opposite direction. They managed to make it to a room - with an actual opening and closing door, how rare those seemed to come by here - and Henry shoved anything he could against it.

Not that there seemed to be much reason. The ink-stains didn’t creep into the room, and Bendy didn’t so much as try the handle or attempt to take down the door.

“What the hell is going on, Henry? What the hell was that- that monster?!” Sammy grabbed Henry’s shirt, staring the other in the eyes desperately. Henry set one of his hands on top of Sammy’s.

“My best guess? Bendy, or whatever messed-up version the ink machine was able to make.”

Sammy’s brow furrowed and he stepped back, letting go of Henry.

“No- that’s not- Bendy doesn’t look like that.”

“I know. I designed and animated him, Sammy.”

“But even when Joey first made Bendy, he didn’t look like that. And eventually he got Bendy to look on model.” Sammy continued. Henry blinked in confusion.

“You were… you were there when he did it?”

“No, but I thought you were. You knew before I did.” He almost sounded accusatory.

“I didn’t know any of this was going on until I came back here yesterday!” Henry all but shouted back, the nerves and stress and confusion beginning to get to him.

There was silence.

“... I’m starting to think Joey may’ve really messed up this time.” Sammy sighed.

Three knocks echoed through the room from the second, unbarricaded door.

 

oOo

 

“Welp. You’ve really messed him up now Joey.”

Bendy stood on a table in an effort to get as far away from Sammy as possible. Not only was he still made of ink, he now had a nice new Bendy mask and was called Bendy ‘My Lord’ while seemingly missing his entire bag of marbles. Meanwhile, Joey was flipping through one of his tomes.

“I CAN FIX THIS!”


	2. An inkling of what's to come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of time to rest, a glace at the toy factory, and peek at Alice Angel

Henry hefted the axe a bit more, watching as the door knob turned, the door slowly creaking open. Out of it peaked a wolfish face, ears perked, pie-cut eyes curiously looking over Sammy and Henry. Despite himself, Henry lowered the axe slightly, watching the toon before him.

“... Boris?”

“I never thought I’d be so happy to see your mug.” Sammy stepped out from behind Henry, walking right over to Boris and swinging to the door completely open. At least the wolf’s chest was no longer cut open, in fact it showed no signs of the gruesome sight Henry had seen on the first floor.

Boris wrapped Sammy in a hug, and Henry prepared to fight off the toon in case he decided to start attacking, but to his immense relief Boris let Sammy go after a moment. He then moved on to Henry himself and before the man could do anything, he found himself wrapped in the same tight hug. He hadn’t realize how badly he needed this - some kind of physical reassurance - until now.

“It’s good to see not everything in here is corrupt.” Henry sighed, returning the hug before eventually pulling away.

“Boris, what is going on here?” Sammy asked Boris, but the toon’s face just turned sad as he looked down at the floor. A moment later the look was gone as he went back to the door, gesturing for them to follow him. “C’mon Boris, I know I’m not always the nicest guy, but throw me a bone here.”

“I’m not sure the toons can talk.” Henry shrugged, following after Boris. He was honestly the best bet they had right now for survival. “The searches hardly make any sound, and all Bendy has done so far is scream. The only one I heard talk was…” Henry trailed off. It had been Sammy, but that was inky Sammy. Every since the ‘pop’, there was definitely something different with man. Perhaps he was back to the state he’d been in before whatever had happened to the studio? But then why had he mentioned knowing Bendy…

“God I  _wish_ toons couldn’t talk.” Sammy groaned. “Then again, I’m sure Bendy would find ways to be even more annoying without using words.”

“Did you know Bendy before he became that ink monster?” Henry asked. 

“Henry, I’m almost positive that monster isn’t Bendy. Bendy is a pain, a little demon that is going to drive me insane if he doesn't kill me first, but Joey hasn’t messed with Bendy since he got him on model.” Sammy glanced around at the hallway. “... where are we anyway? That first room looked kinda like a part of the music department, but this, I have no clue where we are.”

“That makes two of us.” Henry sighed. “Then again, last time I was here there wasn’t half as much ink everywhere, much less anything that was alive because of it.” 

“Last time you were here?” Sammy looked at Henry, opened his mouth to say something, closed it, and then opened it again. “When was the last time you were here?”

“You were there when I left.” Henry pointed out. Even though Sammy wasn’t always the best person to be around, he was still apart of the studio and Henry had taken the time to say a final farewell to anybody he knew well enough - which was, essentially, the entire studio. Sammy had even seen a bit upset over Henry leaving, though there was also ink dripping on his head at the time which could’ve also caused the look.

“Humor me.” Sammy scowled.

“I left after the big argument Joey and I had. God, I can hardly even remember what it was about. But it was enough that I left, didn’t hear from Joey again for thirty years.”

“Thirty *years*?” Sammy stopped, staring at Henry incredulously, then murmured quietly to himself, “I thought you looked older.”

“Something odd is going on here.” Henry said when he knew they were both thinking. Their stories weren’t lining up with each other. “Before you saw me, what was the last thing you remember?” 

“A pipe burst, I was covered in ink - and for some reason completely made of ink. I swear nothing good ever comes from that that machine. Joey tried out some black magic to fix me, and then I was coughing up lungfulls of ink and you were tied up.” Henry hummed in response, not quite sure what to make of this. 

“Whatever’s going on, I don’t like it, but we’re better off if we work and stay together.” Henry looked to Sammy, and Sammy nodded agreement. 

They were both a bit in over their heads and understandings. 

oOo

Boris led them to what Henry could only describe as a bunker, and at least both he and Sammy could agree that if nothing else, this definitely wasn’t here before. There was a moment of panic when the metal door closed rather loudly, the lever to open it missing, but Boris didn’t take the moment to attack or kill them, so both men considered everything to still be more or less fine. Boris was even kind enough to offer Sammy a cleaner pair of overalls and a pair of shoes, though unfortunately it would seem the wolf had not seen a reason to keep a shirt on hand. As a kindness in return, or perhaps just because it was freaky, both Sammy and Henry came to a silent agreement not to talk about Boris’... collage. 

He did, thankfully, have a few bandages. After all, with everything that had gone down in the last few hours, Henry had come out of it far from unscathed. The following day was spent resting up in the relative peace that was Boris’ Bunker, playing some poker with the numerous cans of Bacon Soup as the chips, and attempting to sort out what was going on. 

The conclusion that Henry and Sam were able to reach was that Joey Has Messed Up and that despite conflicting stories, they had to trust someone and that person may as well be each other if they wanted to get out of here eventually. 

Boris himself seemed trustworthy enough, not to mention the toon had a crazy good poker face. Sammy still seemed determined to find a way to get Boris to talk, that the wolf was capable of doing it. Boris had made a few sounds, like a whimpering when he'd seen Henry's injuries or a small bark-like sound if he needed their attention, but nothing close to words. What Henry wouldn’t give to see the toons Sammy described, able to speak and being a part of the studio.

And when morning came - at least, according to the clock on the wall - both men were decided that it was time to move out. It was nice here, safe, but either man wanted to stay in the studio forever. With Boris once more leading the way, the trio set off.

After Boris climbed into the vents, the silence of the group of finished. 

“Do we trust him?” Sammy whispered. 

“Do we have much of a choice? I mean, he looks on model, he’s been friendly so far.” Henry shrugged. “You seemed all for trusting him when we first met.”

“That’s when I thought he was my Boris. But my Boris talks, and likes to show off his clarinet skills. This Boris… I don’t know him.”  Sammy shook his head. 

“... why were you wearing his overalls anyway?” 

“Oh, my clothes got all covered in ink and I needed something new to wear. And it wasn’t like I could just go home and grab a change of clothes. The studio may’ve been fine with toons and crazy happenings, but the outside, blissfully sane world has no idea what was going on in these studio walls. Shoes weren’t too much of a problem considering my feet were… questionable at best. When I was just ink, being shirtless didn’t seem like too big of an issue, but now… I’d really love a shirt.” Sammy sighed, patting his chest.

“Who knows, maybe next room with have something helpful.” Henry suggested. As if on cue the door began to rise, and Henry got a bit more of an idea of how out of place they were.

“‘Heavenly Toys’?” Sammy snorted as they entered the gigantic room. It was nice to no longer be in a hall, but toys weren’t too much better.  

“We had a toy department, sure, but last I checked it wasn’t nearly this big.” Henry gestured to the giant Boris plush. There was also a very unsettling waterfall of ink coming from the sign.

“Neither is the one I remember. I know Shawn’s been asking for an upgrade though, what with Alice starting to get so popular and demand for her toys on the rise.” Sammy nudged a small bendy plush with his foot, making it squeak a bit in return. “What has happened here that every other door needs a freaking lever to open it?” 

“The same thing where every door that I probably need to go through is blocked up or broken.” Henry grimaced at said door in the following room. This room, oddly enough, was a bit familiar, if only for the toy machine off to the side. It looked like somebody had been using it and then just… stopped, up and left in the middle of work. Perhaps even died. Sitting off to side of the machine was a table, holding most notably a cassette player and a bowl with an ink figure of Bendy.

“Do you remember Joey making us make these?” Henry held it up for Sammy to see. 

“Like I could forget. He  _still_ makes us record them at least once a month. For ’posterity’ or whatever.” Sammy groaned. 

“I did find some of yours upstairs. I never knew you had a secret sanctuary.” Sammy made a squawking noise as Henry clicked play, the familiar voice of Shawn coming through.

“My sanctuary is none of you business!” Sammy snapped.

“Why do you have a toilet in there?” Henry asked as he inspected some of the machinery around them, pulling out the various plushies stuck between gears. 

“None of your Business!” Sammy repeated with a growl. Henry chuckled and threw the lever, starting up the toy machine again and moving the shelves that had been in their way.

“Hey, we all need places where we pull all-nighters. I used to do it  in just about anybody’s workplace that wasn’t my own - Joey’s office, the recording booth, next to the ink machine. Being where I wasn’t ‘supposed’ to be just helped me stay awake somehow.” They pushed forward into the next room and both stopped in the doorway.

It was like an Alice museum, cutouts of the character behind glass windows, small tvs with her face sticking out of the walls. As soon as they stepped farther inside the door slammed shut and the lights cut out, Alice’s signature song quietly playing in the background. 

“Are you… humming to it?” Henry whispered. Sammy glared back.

“Hey, you try not singing along to something you spent days working on.” 

“You don’t hear me screaming along with ‘B- AAAAAGH” 

Just as the song reached yet another verse of ‘I’m Alice Angel’ it cut off, and in the scene at the front of the room - and the only one lit - a creature that almost resembled the angelic-devilish character popped up, shouting the line and pounding on the glass. And with it, the last of the lights in the room switched off. 

Henry could feel Sammy pressing closer to him until they were back to back. Neither men were really fighters, but they were both determined not to die in this hell of a studio.

“I see you there,” The sing-song voice whispered through the air, seeming to come from all around them. Henry’s heart hammered in his rib cage. “Two little flies, caught in my web… Come along now.”

“It can’t be…” Sammy whispered, hardly a breath, but Henry still heard him. He fumbled in the dark until he found the musician’s hand and squeezed it, desperately attempting to convey the dire need for silence right now. 

“Let’s see if you’re worthy to walk with angels.”

Cold air passed by Henry’s ear. He swore he could almost feel her lips touching him, ghosting over the side of his head. Against his better judgement, every part of him froze up. Sure, he’d been able to take ink monsters charging at him, but this, this was something else. Something much more powerful, more intelligent. 

Behind him, he could feel the muscles in Sammy’s shoulder move, elbow moving to the side that Her voice was coming from, jabbing into the air and hitting nothing.

The lights flickered back on, allowing them to see the shattered glass of the window and the utter lack of anything else in the room besides the two of them. 

“Dammit!” Sammy spun around, eyes sharply looking to every corner and above every doorway.

“Hey, she’s not in here anymore, calm down.” Henry tried to reason. Sammy just shot him a very paranoid glare.

“Never let your guard down when you’re with a toon. Unless it’s Boris. Even then, Boris usually means Bendy isn’t far behind.” Which, well, there was probably a good point to that. Henry looked again at the shattered glass.

“Do you think she was trapped in there?” 

“No.” Sammy edged away from the window, towards the now conveniently-open wall. “Didn’t you hear what she said? I’m willing to bet she’s rarely anywhere she doesn’t want to be. Never underestimate a toon.” 

“I don’t suppose you have a good list of 101 things, Mr. Toon extraordinaire?” Henry asked, only half-joking.

“I’d love to say I wrote the book myself, but I had some help from my fellow employees. Sadly, the list is all back where I’m from. You’ll just have to be a fast learner.” A beat of silence. “... she doesn’t look like Alice.”

“And you’re surprised, even after ‘Bendy’?” Sammy’s walk slowed, enough that Henry was able to catch up next to him.

“Alice… I, may favor her a bit over the others. And her voice… that’s not the voice of Alice Angel.” There was something in his eyes, something that Henry couldn’t quite place but that left a sinking feeling in her stomach, the same feeling he’d been filled with during the war. When people mentioned things as if to foreshadow, saying something without knocking on enough wood. Something that would come and bite them in the butt sooner rather than later.

And against Henry’s better judgement, he let it go for now.


	3. Down the Rabbit Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting with an angel

“Oh great, a crossroads.”

The Demon and The Angel signs pointed in opposite directions. Henry glanced over at Sammy. He seemed to be trying to see how far he could look into the Angel room without actually stepping inside. The man was rather thin, didn’t look terribly capable of fighting something off on his own. Henry himself was old, older than he liked to admit, but he was resourceful, and smart, and trusted himself to take care of himself more than he trusted Sammy to survive.

“I’ll take one room, you’ll take the other, and we’ll meet back here?” Henry suggested. Sammy’s face looked like he just bit into a lemon but he nodded. Henry hefted the ax in his hand one more time before holding it out towards Sammy.

“Don’t you need it?” Sammy asked even as took it, feeling out the weight in his hand.

“If something happens I’ll shout.” Henry shrugged.

“Well, thanks.” Sammy shot Henry what could almost be mistaken for a smile and closed the short gap between himself and the Angel path - and as he stepped inside, the metal door slid shut.

“Wh- oh of course!” Henry growled and ran over to it, pounding on the metal. He could hear Sammy’s own pounding. “Sammy, is everything okay in there?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Sammy stopped knocking.

“Listen, I’ll go through the other door and then we’ll, we’ll figure something out. Hopefully the rooms meet up again somewhere. If not-”

“If not, I’ll start tearing down walls.” There was a metallic thump on the door that Henry assumed was made by the ax. He chuckled a bit at that.

“Okay. See you real soon.” Henry knocked on the door one last time and then stepped back, staring at it as if that would make the door magically open back up. But it remained closed, and Henry walked back to the demon route. Of course it would be that the way he had to go was the one with a nice pool of ink on the floor that he’d once again have to wade through. If -  _when_ \- he got out of this place, he’d have to check it out and see if all the ink had done any permanent damage to him. At the very least it seemed almost plausible that his feet would be forever stained black. He couldn’t be sure how long the studio had been functional and overflowing with so much ink, but he wished somebody had randomly left behind a pair of rain boots.

A few small candles burned in the room, giving it an odd lighting that sent a few shivers up Henry’s spine. There was a drawing table, an older bendy doll sitting atop it and staring at Henry with a grin. All around the room, thick columns of ink ran down into the floor as if it was a cave and they were stalactites. And of course, sitting on a chair, seemingly untouched by the ink all around, was a cassette player. Henry pressed play.

“There’s nothing wrong with dreaming. Wishing for the impossible is just human nature. That’s how I got started. Just a pencil and a dream. We all want everything without ever having to lift a finger. They say you just have to believe. Belief can make you succeed. Belief can make you rich. Belief can make you powerful. Why, with enough belief, you can even cheat death itself. Now that… is a beautiful, and positively silly thought.”

Cheat death itself. Henry remembered Joey commenting on that when ‘Tombstone Picnic’ was pitched. Bendy’s character was still rather… 'bendy' at the time. They were both still trying to get a better grasp on what exactly the little demon cared about, wanted, feared, what his story was. How much of his actual background would be showed to the public would probably be rather small, but to write him and draw him it’d be important for them to know.

 _'He’s a demon, why would he be afraid of a skeleton?'_ Henry had asked

 _'Maybe he doesn’t want to go back. I can’t imagine Hell is a very nice place.'_ Joey had commented. _'_ _Perhaps he’s not supposed to be out of Hell. He’s cheating death itself.'_  And then Joey had stared at the concept art - Bendy, looking down at a skeleton emerging from a grave, a hand wrapped around Bendy’s ankle - for a worrying stretch of time.

“Joey, what have you done?” The cassette didn’t reply. Henry sighed and walked to the other door in the room, which blessedly had a platform in front of it to walk on - and gave Henry a chance to attempt to get some of the ink out of his shoes. With careful and nearly-silent steps Henry continued to the hallway beyond the room. The hairs on the back of his neck rose as he went and he found himself wishing for a moment he hadn’t given Sammy the ax. There was something else here.

“HYAAAA!” The door of the Little Miracle Station flew open and Sammy leaped out, ax in hand, pulled back like a baseball bat moments before the wing. Sammy’s eyes looked over Henry for a moment, comprehending who he was seeing, and with a disappointed groan his shoulders loosened and his arms fell to his sides, the top of the ax hitting the ground. “Oh, it’s just you Henry.”

“Glad you’re safe too.” Henry huffed, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“I thought there was a monster coming. Kinda hoped so.” Sammy swung the ax to rest on his shoulder, slowly heading farther down the hall. “I need to blow off some steam and I can’t really lock myself in my sanctuary and compose for hours.”

“What happened in there?” Henry raised an eyebrow.

“... Joey replaced Susie.”

“Oh.” That had happened after Henry had left, but not too long after. He could remember Susie calling him, crying into the phone. Later she’d come over and he’d held her as she wept, absolutely crushed.

 _'I’m going back.'_  She’d said after an hour or two. _'I'll_ _make him see I’m the Alice Angel he needs.'_

Looking around at what this place was, Henry wished he had stopped her, and convinced her to quit, but instead he’d encouraged her to return.

“Of all of the- the stupid, idiotic, terrible decisions that Joey Drew has, will, and is currently making,” Sammy was mostly muttering to himself, angrily wiping stops of ink off himself, “Replacing Susie is near the top. She’s a hard worker, determined, this was her _dream_ , she was so excited when she found out about Alice and then he just, tears it away- OH NO YOU DON’T”

Henry jumped a bit as a Bendy cutout peeked around the corner, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t already seen. Sammy reacted much worse, throwing the ax in the cut out’s direction. It didn’t go very far or look like it would’ve hit it’s mark if it had gone any further, but it was more than enough for Henry to grab Sammy and spin the man around to look him in the eyes.

“Hey, calm down! That happened years ago, okay?” Sammy’s glare was a bit less intense, but still here. “Look, where you’re from, does Susie still voice Alice?”

“... yes.”

“So then you probably don’t even have to worry about this. This is just my studio, what happened here. And if Joey decided to replace Susie in your studio, you can punch him yourself. But throwing around weapons is not going to help our cause.”

Another thing peeked out from the wall and Sammy whipped around, looking prepared to throw something else, but it wasn’t a Bendy cut out. Boris’ wolfish almost-constant smile looked back at them, and he nodded in a clear sign of ‘come on over, the water’s fine’.

“Gave us quite the scare there Boris.” Henry gave Boris a grin. Boris, looking rather proud of himself, held out a pipe to Henry. “Thanks buddy, the more weapons, the merrier.”

“Well, let’s keep moving forward.” Sammy huffed, pushing open the next door.

oOo

“An elevator?”

“An elevator.”

Sure enough, in the catacombs of this cursed studio, was an elevator. Boris had already climbed into it, waiting patiently for the two humans to follow him inside.

“This is going to be great.” Sarcasm dripped from Sammy’s voice, but he got onto it anyway.

“What kind of place names their floors ‘K’ and ‘P’?” Henry’s finger hovered over the buttons, trying to figure out which one to press. None of them seemed to lead upwards from here.

“At least close the doors so if anything starts coming for us, it _can't_.” Sammy suggested. 

 _“You’re both so interesting… different…_  fleshy _.”_ The speaker in the elevator crackled to life, the elevator moving down.

“Alice.” Sammy whispered under his breath, focused on the voice.

 _“I have to say, I’m an instant fan. You lucky two have won yourselves a date with an angel!”_ They passed by a floor, but the elevator didn’t stop. _“Come to me now on Floor 9. Just follow the screams.”_

“Screams?” Henry mouthed to Sammy. They passed a couple more floors before the elevator stopped, the doors sliding open again.

 _“Come on, step out of your cage. There’s a whole twisted world out there.”_ This time Boris stayed at the back of the group, noticeably more on edge than he had  been since they’d met him.

“I’m starting to get the feeling that this ‘Alice Angel’ is rather full of herself.” Sammy huffed, looking up at the giant Alice face holding the ‘She’s Quite A Gal’ sign. There didn’t seem to be anywhere else to go, and the metal doors opening their jaws seemed to be an invitation to venture further in. Henry took to the front of the group, pipe held in front of him, ears perked for any sounds. There was a liquidy sound, undoubtedly running ink, but none of the promised screaming. He stopped short, however, when he rounded the corner.

“Hey, it may be best for you two to stay back. You know, she may close the door behind us and if we have somebody outside, they may be able to find a way to open it up.” Sammy raised an eyebrow, searching Henry’s face.

“Boris, why don’t you wait in the elevator?” Sammy suggested. Boris looked at the two men worriedly. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure Henry doesn’t drown in any ink.” One last glance at the two of them and Boris nodded, walking back the way they’d come.

“Sammy you’d better make sure he doesn’t get attac-” Sammy brushed right past Henry.

“What. The _Hell_. Am I looking at?” Henry followed Sammy, who was staring at the cut-open Boris.

“I… wish I could tell you. There was another one like this, on the first floor.”

“And you didn’t think you should tell me?” Sammy glared at Henry.

“I didn’t think it’d be relevant!” Henry replied defensively, hands held up in surrender. He glanced around, and he felt his heart stop in his chest at the sight. “Oh God.”

“Wha- Holy. Shit.” Sammy’s glare was wiped from his face as he too looked around at all of the other cut-open toons. There were more Boris’, along with some more of the messed-up off-model Charley like the one they’d had to kill earlier. The majority of the room itself was flooded with ink, barrels and boards working to make a twisting pathway through corpses.

“Look around. It took so many of them to make me so beautiful. Anything less than perfect… was left behind.” If there was anything left in Henry’s stomach, he’d probably be throwing. As it was there was a bitter taste in the back of his throat and if Henry looked at any one of them for too long he started to see much more… human-looking corpses in their place. “I had to do it. She made me.”

Henry didn’t miss how Sammy’s grip on his ax tightened ever-more.

The animator squatted down on one of the planks, looking at the thing floating in the ink. It looked like it had once, perhaps, been Edgar, but there was an entire mouth on his head that definitely hadn’t been there before, two of his arms fused together. It looked like some evil scientist had simply gone to town on the toon.

“I don’t know anything about the Butcher Gang, if that’s what you were thinking.” Sammy glanced down at the creature but didn’t seem interested in staring into the realistic eye that Henry kept wondering if he was imagining it twitching or not. “Joey didn’t bring those ones to life. Not yet at least. Hopefully never.”

“Not that that seemed to stop him from doing it here.” Henry stood back up. The animator part of him, the one who had designed Edgar so many years ago, longing to simply grab a pen draw right over his teeth, fix up his eye, get the character back on model. But he couldn’t, there was nothing he could do.

“Oh great, another cassette.” Despite the frustration in his sentence, Sammy walked over to it and hit the play button.

“Who would have thought? Me, having lunch with Joey Drew! Apparently times are tougher than I thought. For a moment there, I thought I’d be stuck with the check. But I gotta say, he wasn’t at all what I expected. Quite the charmer. He even called me Alice… _I liked it_.”

Susie’s voice crackled on. Henry remembered Joey mentioning meeting with Susie, one-on-one, about the Alice Angel character. She’d gotten praise on her voice from Sammy, and when Sammy praised someone, it was not taken lightly. It was taken for extreme compliment it was. Henry always knew that Joey could convince a fish to tap dance if given the chance, but it was only really now, seeing what this place had become, that Henry realized just how dangerous a talent like that could be.

They continued on until they were past the ink pool, through the next hallway. There was machinery all around them, and… the faint sound of nails, drumming on a surface. A gasping groan of something that was panicked and in pain. Turning the corner, it was clear to see it was Charley.  _A_ Charley at least. Strapped to an operating table just like all the others, chest not yet cut open.

And there she was. Taller than she should be, more humanoid than any toon Henry had ever designed. Her halo fell into her head, looking as if it was as permanent a fixture there was the horns. But by far the most horrific part was the entire left side of his face - patchy, bumpy, looking like somebody had attempted to melt it. Her teeth showed through, a sickening permanent grin that reminded Henry of ‘Bendy’.

“Hm. Now we’ve come to the question… Do I kill you?... Do I  _tear_ you apart to my _heart's delight?_ ”

“How about you give us a way out of here?” Sammy growled, stepping a bit closer, ax held in both hands in preparation to cut her open.

“No need to be so forward there. We have endless time to play around.” Alice grinned at Sammy, more like a bearing of teeth. “I must say, I’ve gotten rather good in what I do. Take this freak for instance. He crawled in here, bleeding tainted ink all over  _my_ room. It could have touched me! It could have pulled me back!”

Next to Henry, Sammy stiffened, and Henry tensed. Right there, it had been right when she had said that last sentence, what he thought he’d been hearing underlying all along. Her voice didn’t sound like Alice, but for a moment there she sounded more like the Angel. She’d sounded more like Susie.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like? Living in the dark puddles? It’s a buzzing, screaming well of voices! Bits of _you_ , of your mind, swimming… like… like fish in a bowl! I’m sure you two will learn what it’d like soon enough. No one can avoid the ink forever. But I will not let the ink demon touch me again, drag me down into that Hell again. Twice was more than enough. An Angel doesn’t belong, doesn’t deserve to be down there! And look how far I’ve come, so close to perfect.” She turned her head so that they could only see the smooth, unruined side of her face.

“So off model.” Henry muttered.

“Quiet! Don’t, interrupt an Angel!” She all but screamed, fury overtaking her features before quickly, too quickly, being swept back into the aloof higher-than-tho expression she’d worn before. “I’ll help you ascend, leave this prison of ink. But first, you’ll be helping me with a few favors. Return to the lift, and we can get started.” She blinked rather deliberately at Sammy, and Henry’s best guess was it was how someone with only one eye attempted to wink. Their view of her was cut off and there were the promised screams.


	4. The Inky Fate That Awaits Us All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammy freaks out for a bit  
> Henry dies  
> Sammy comes to a revelation  
> Henry lives

“You said you didn’t think toons could talk.”

It was the first thing Sammy said after their close encounter of the Angel kind.

“I was only going by what I’ve-”

“But you said there was one that could.” Ah. Henry had started to hope that Sammy had forgotten about that. “Have you met Alice before?”

“Of course not! I would’ve told you.” Henry defended himself. Sammy was still glaring at him, a few careful steps between them

“What aren’t you telling me Henry?”

“It’s- I didn’t think it’d be important.” Henry ran a hand through his hair.

“Henry I swear to God we’re both in this insane hell-hole made of ink. I deserve to know if there’s anything else like  _her_ out there.” The sounds of whatever machine she was using on the Charley still echoed to where they were. Sammy took another step back. The two of them had never been terribly close but damn it all Henry wasn’t going to lose the only living, breathing, only-covered-in-ink-that-can-come-off person in this abyss and Henry wasn’t about to let him run off and get himself killed.

“He’s not an issue, Sammy. Not… anymore, at least as far as I’m aware.”

“You were tied up.” Sammy’s eyes narrowed. “This… thing, he tied you up didn’t he.”

“Yes-”

“On  _top_ of a pentagram-”

“Yea-”

“And you’re trying to tell me we don’t have to watch out for *this thing*?”

“No because he was you!” Henry was nearly pulling his hair out now. As he had expected, Sammy looked shocked, confused, and perhaps a little bit scared.

“... what?”

“It was  _you_ Sammy! You were made of ink and worshiping ‘Bendy’ and hit me in the head with a dustpan! But now you’re you and so it’s not an issue!” Henry shouted before deflating. “It’s… been a long day. Three days. However long I’ve been down here.”

“... that wasn’t me.” Sammy desperately shook his head. “That wasn’t me.”

“I know it wasn’t you.” Henry did his best to comfort the composer. “And even if it was, it was obvious you weren’t… all there.”

Sammy didn’t respond, but Henry didn’t like the way he was looking at his ax. He wasn’t sure whether the look was a ‘I’m going to kill myself for something I think I might’ve done’ or the more familiar anger that he’d showed during their time at the studio of ‘I am filled with rage from the decisions of the idiots I’m surrounded by and heads are going to roll’.

“Let’s… get out of here.” Henry started across the planks, and for a moment he was afraid that Sammy wasn’t going to follow. About halfway across there was pounding feet as Sammy ran to catch up.

The gate into Alice’s inner sanctum closed behind them, which quite frankly was fine with Henry. He never wanted to see that much carnage or that ‘Angel’s’ face again.

_“All I need you to do is find a few valves for me. Turn their wheels and bring me back the power cords. And if you make me regret sparing you… well, I’ll get to see how long you little fleshy bodies can hold up to the kind of strain I’ve put all the others through. And don’t worry, I wouldn’t dream of making you go out there with nothing to defend yourself.”_

Off to the side of the door a cylindrical container opened up, revealing a plunger.

“Really?” Sammy rolled his eyes. Henry, not wanting to anger the toon who clearly had control of the best way back to the surface, exchanged his pipe for the odd weapon.

_“This world of ours is so… malleable. So few rules. So few truths. But for those who wish to survive, we all obey - we all respect - one rule: Beware of the Ink Demon. He will find you - he finds everyone soon enough. If you wish to survive, I suggest hiding if he’s near. Should you fail to do so, well, say hi to the voices for me."_

Alice’s haunting laugh echoed through the studio.

“Do we even know what we’re looking for?” Sammy glanced around.

“Maybe we should split up?” Henry suggested, and received a look that was clearly asking him if he was crazy. “Look, how much time do you want to spend down here? Not to mention, how well do you think we can hide with the two of us? We’ll have better odds keeping away from ‘Bendy’ if we’re on our own.

“I can’t believe I’m letting you convince me to do this again.” Sammy sighed. “Fine, good luck with your plunger.”

“Oh trust me, I can turn this thing into a weapon.” Henry flexed his arm, showing off the muscle that was still there. Sure he was no body builder, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t hold his own.”

Henry returned to the elevator, taking it to the highest floor available. Sammy would probably work his way up, so Henry would make his way down. Easy-peasy, this would be over before they knew it and the two of them could get out of here and move onto whatever problem Sammy was going through.

Boris gave Henry a hug upon seeing him, looking him over for any injuries and then looking around for Sammy.

“Sammy’s fine.” Henry patted the wolf’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, we just need to do a couple of things and then we’ll be back to the first floor and free before you know it.”

The floors were incredibly maze-like. It certainly didn’t help that Henry wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for. Searchers popped up decently often, attempting to grab at Henry and pull him back into the ink with them, but a couple hits with the plunger and they were down for the count. Perhaps the ax would be a bit more effective, but quite frankly the more weapon-like the object was, the more it reminded Henry of war. He didn’t quite have the amount of PTSD as a few of the others that had made it out of the war, but he didn’t come out unscathed. None of them did, even if they never got injured in action.

The valves and the power cores weren’t too hard to deal with, once he knew what he was looking for. He did have to wonder what the power cores were supposed to be powering, and if taking them out was actually going to end up biting him in the butt later - well, more than helping Alice was already going to do.

He was two floors lower when it happened.

A few searchers had decided to gang up on him, backing Henry into a corner. It wouldn’t take too many more hits to take them out, but before Henry could start his retaliation, one by one, they burst. It was almost reminiscent of what had happened to Sammy, and curiously Henry walked over to where one had stood seconds before, kneeling down and inspecting the residual ink that was quickly soaking back into the studio.

But as that ink vanished, more writhing lines of ink took its place, splotches of it coloring the room. Henry’s heart skipped a beat as he recognized it, stumbling to his feet. He looked around, listening closely. There was the sound of wheezing breathing and a step-drag pattern. As silently as he could, Henry tried to look down the halls. The Ink Demon was slowly making his way past the hallway Henry was down. If he was lucky, maybe ‘Bendy’ would wander just right past him…

Of course, in here luck didn’t exist. Only forces that wanted him dead did.

“SHIT!”

Henry started running, followed quickly behind by the much-fast-than-he-should-be Ink Demon.

oOo

Sammy’s ax easily cut through another searcher. The blade didn’t seem to dull, or at the very least ink monsters didn’t do much damage. Treasure the little blessings. One of the blessings he didn’t have was a way to easily carry the power cores while moving around, and thus had resorted to dropping them off at the elevator in between which, by the growing pile, it seemed Henry was doing as well. It also didn’t hurt to see Boris. The wolf was like a beam of sunshine, always so happy to see Sammy whenever he stopped by.

Before he could even think about moving on to the next room, loud thumping distracted him, coming from the direction he’d just walked through. Thank his lucky stars, one of the Little Miracle Stations was within reach. Sammy slipped right in, peeking through the little slit. Black tendrils filled the room, worming their way into the Little Miracle Station. For a moment Sammy was afraid that perhaps they were how the Ink Demon saw, that he was seeing him right now. In the glimpse he had gotten of him when he’d first… arrived, it didn’t seem ‘Bendy’ could see all that well through the ink in his face.

And then there was Henry, running a bit too close to the origin of the ink for comfort. Sammy moved to the side as much as he could. They'd could manage to squeeze if they had to.

A few feet from the Station, Henry stumbled. It only took him a second to get his feet under him again, but that was all the time the Ink Demon needed. The hand that was gloved grabbed Henry’s middle, and Sammy could see the shock and fear fill the man’s eyes. The towering demon really set into perspective just how short the animator was. The other hand latched onto Henry’s head, the ink from it dripping into his hair.

And in one quick move twisted the head to the side with a sickening snap.

“NO!” Sammy pounded on the door as ‘Bendy’ let go of Henry and the man… the man’s _corpse_ fell straight into the ink and out of sight.

Bendy looked to the Little Miracle Station and Sammy quickly scrambled away from the door, pressing himself up again the back. The monster drew close, and the bigger hand grabbed the top of the box, wiggling it back and forth. Sammy bit into his hand to stop himself from making any noise.

But eventually, finally, the ink monster left, walking straight into a wall and disappearing, taking the inky web with him.

The Henry wasn’t - hadn’t been - his Henry. But he had been the only other human down here. It had all been so confusing, but at least Henry seemed to have some kind of inkling what he was doing. And despite Sammy’s admittedly bad temper that always showed through at the worst times Henry had been willing to help Sammy out, even after he’d tried to sacrifice him or something. Henry’s description had sounded like him, and who was to say this wasn’t just the ‘future’. Except the future was the present because who was to say that he just didn’t remember the time between Joey trying to fix him and finding Henry in the music department.

As if on autopilot, feeling oddly numb and the imagine of Henry’s head twisted too far to the side showing clearly behind his eyes, Sammy found the last power core.

_“Two heads really do work faster than one. Return to me, we have much to talk about.”_

It would seem wolves shared that odd dog sense where they knew when something was wrong. Boris was all over Sammy in a heartbeat, forehead creased with worry.

“Henry… Henry’s gone Boris.” Sammy’s voice sounded so… quiet, even in his own ears. He walked over to the elevator wall and let himself slide to the ground, closing his eyes. Boris joined him a second later, head resting on his shoulder.

_“You know, there was a time that people knew my name.”_

Alice’s voice made Sammy’s anger spike despite the sick feeling in his gut.

“Shut up.” He muttered through gritted teeth.

_“Oh, it was so long ago. But those days will return. Dreams come true, Susie. Dreams come true.”_

Sammy’s eyes snapped open at the name.

He had been thinking it, in the back of his head, but it had seemed crazy. He didn’t want to believe it.

“Susie?!” Sammy jumped back to his feet. The speaker in the elevator remained silent.

It made a sick kind of sense. The only other ink monster that had spoken had been himself, apparently. A real person. So of course Alice was made from someone who had once been flesh and blood.

The elevator came to a halt on Alice’s floor, and Sammy grabbed one of the power cores. Maybe if he delivered them, Alice would open the door again and he could talk to her, this time knowing she was Susie. At least, she was in there somewhere.

He was quickly distracted by a bubbling off to the left and cursed under his breath. He was not in the mood to put up with another searcher right now.

“Boris, can you get the rest of these to the door?” Sammy asked and Boris nodded, picking up three. For noodle arms, the toon was stronger than he looked. The bubbling was coming from right in front of the Bendy statue and Sammy set down the power core, waiting for the searcher to emerge. He’d tried taking them out before they completely took form, but all that seemed to do was waste his energy.

One arm came out, then another. The searcher pulled himself out of the ink, mouth opening - and then breathing in a deep breath. With the breath, the ink seemed fell off of him, revealing skin and hair and clothes.

“Henry, is that you?!” Sammy dropped his ax, grabbing the man’s wrists and pulling him the rest of the way out of the ink puddle. Henry didn’t respond, too busy coughing up ink.

oOo

It was… so noisy.

A quiet but constant hum surrounding him, just loud enough that it was hard for Henry to think.

_When do we go home?_

_Aren’t the taxes due-_

_-lose should be soon I can’t-_

_-too late why am I always too-_

_-aughter has anyone seen my daughter I brou-_

Henry’s own thoughts seemed to get lost in the waves of consciousness. For terrifying seconds at a time, he forgot his own name but so far he’d always managed to push the Others aside and reclaim it, keeping it close to himself.

‘I need to find Sammy’. It was the first thought that Henry had managed to push from conception to understanding. Sammy was still in the studio. He needed to...

_-but the boys can’t just-_

_-am I supposed to get this done by Mon-_

_Where am I who are you all-_

_-kill Joey if Sammy doesn't do it first!_

Sammy! Henry needed to get out of here. Get to Sammy. Get to Boris. Find the power… the power… Power Cores!

Henry pulled himself together. He needed to stay here, stay himself.

Out. He needed to get…

_-let go let go of me Joey please don’t do thi-_

Get out here!

There, in the distance, Henry could see a spot void of Others. He pushed the Others away, even as they reached for him. Misery loves company and they wanted him to be with them, but he wasn’t going to stay here.

He reached forward, and a part of the being - the soul - that was Henry condensed into a hand, reached through the hole, and grasped something. Air and solid matter, free of Others. Another arm formed, and now he was anchored to the real world.

_Stay?_

Something wrapped around him and Henry shoved it off. No, he needed out, and he need to come out as only himself.

_… creator?_

Henry forced his head out of the hole, gasping for air.

There was a muffled sound, a voice, and then something was grabbing him again. But Henry didn’t have the strength to fight this time. He lost this time but he’d do it again. He’d keep trying until he made it out. But the thing grabbing him pulled him farther away from the Others.

Lungs, he had lungs again. And he needed them to be clear of… ink, it was ink in his lungs.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay.” Henry opened his eyes to see Sammy looking down at him.

“Hey Sammy. I swear, it’s not my fault.” Henry muttered.


	5. Fetch Quests As Far As The Eye Can See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammy and Henry do some fetch quests  
> ... yup that's the chapter

Surprisingly enough, it didn’t take Henry long to find energy again.

Sammy sat next to Henry, just kind of watching as Henry coughed the last bit of ink out of his chest. Boris had also come over too and was kneeling in front of Henry with a worried expression on his face.

“Hey there bud.” Henry’s voice was a bit hoarse, but it was words. He patted the side of Boris’s head and the wolf’s expression brightened a bit. He stayed there a moment longer, enjoying the feeling of breathing. He swore he could still feel ‘Bendy’s’ grip on his head, fingers piercing into his head. With a groan, he stood up, wobbling on his feet for second. “C’mon, let’s get this over with.”

Sammy picked up the power core, casting one last concerned look to Henry before his face became determined. 

“Alright.” 

Sammy dropped it into Alice’s chute as Boris returned to the elevator.

_ “About time. And here I thought you’d never-” _

“Susie, come out here and talk to me!” Sammy demanded, banging on the door.

_ “I. AM ALICE. ANGEL!” _

“Susie I know it’s you, you're not Alice Angel!  Get your ass out here and screw your head on right!” Sammy pounded even harder.

_ “SAY THAT ONE MORE TIME AND YOU’LL FIND YOURSELF IN A FATE WORSE THAN DEATH YOU MISERABLE WELP!” _

“Sammy,” Henry grabbed Sammy’s shoulder. Sammy glared back at Henry, hand halfway to another pound on the door.

“It’s  _ her _ ,” Sammy hissed, “I know it’s  _ her _ .”

“We’ll talk about it later.” With what looked like a monumental effort, Sammy lowered his fist to his side, but he was shaking all over. 

_ “You’re lucky I still need you. Anger me again, and, well, one errand boy will do.” _ Sammy opened his mouth to say something and Henry slapped his hand over the musician’s mouth.  _ “Now then, I need a few parts for my machines. Take this wrench and get me four gears. And don’t make me wait so long again.” _

“Hard to split up with one wrench.” Henry commented. Sammy didn’t respond, eyes still on the door as if the power behind his glare could force it open. “Sammy, we can talk about Her when we’re out of this room.”

“... fine.” Sammy bit out, stomping to the stairs. They didn’t say anything to each other until they were on the next level.

“... so, you think Alice is Susie?”

“I  _ know  _ Alice is Susie!” Sammy corrected. “She said it herself when I was making my way back to her room.”

Henry would be lying if he said he hadn’t been thinking about it. Ink monsters made from humans being capable of thinking and talking.

“What do you think we should do?”

“We have to help her, save her, get her sane again!” Okay, that had been a dumb question.

“She doesn’t seem much in the mood for talking.” Henry pointed out. “We still need the elevator.”

“I know, I know.” Sammy’s grip on his ax tightened. Yeah, giving it to Sammy may not have been the best choice.”

“Let’s try getting her the gears. Maybe, given a little time, she’ll be more up to talking.” Henry didn’t quite believe it, and Sammy obviously didn’t either, but it wasn’t like they had any better ideas.

oOo

There wasn’t much incident as they picked through rooms, taking out searchers and collecting gears. The Ink Demon didn’t make a appearance this time, but that didn’t stop both of them from being on edge whenever there wasn’t a Miracle Station within view.

“Alright. Let’s get these back to Susie.” Henry hefted the gears. They were small enough to carry at least, but were a lot denser than they looked. 

“And if she doesn’t want to talk again?” Henry shrugged.

“We try again later? I promise Sammy, we’re gonna save as many people as we can before we leave. But first _we_ need to be safe. We can come back for her later if we have to.” Sammy didn’t seem pleased with that last option, but didn’t argue as they stepped onto the elevator.

_ “Sammy. Sammy Lawrence…” _

“Susie.” Sammy looked at the speaker in the elevator hopefully. The voice was closer to Susie’s again.

_ “I remember you saying I had such talent. Oh it made me so… happy!”  _ Her voice got even higher, shifting into the voice she did when recording Alice Angel- bright and far too cheery. Without warning it shifted back into the sinister pitch.  _ “You’ve always been a great liar.” _

“Wha- No, you  _ are _ talented!” Sammy shouted back. 

_ “At least you’re still such a handsome man.” _

Sammy’s cheeks gained a pink tint at the last comment. Henry remembered it being rather rare for people to comment on the other’s looks. Not because he looked bad, Susie wasn’t lying when she called him handsome, but his personality tended to cause people to regret making conversation with him and thus avoided saying just about anything to his face.

“I can’t believe she thinks I lied to her.” Sammy muttered, arms crossed angrily. 

“To be fair, I would too if you said something good about me. Or I’d think you’re coming down with something.” Henry ignored Sammy’s glare as the elevator came to a stop.

Of course, the gears weren’t the end. Next she needed ink from extra thick ink monsters, which really didn’t settle well in Henry’s stomach. She was creepy enough, she really didn’t need to up the ante by asking them to get ink for her to… inject into herself? Honestly, the less Henry thought about it the better.

The syringe was uncomfortable in his hand. He usually didn’t have a problem with needles, but there was something about the weathered look of it and probably the fact that he was so tired. But he looked at it, and he kept thinking about lying on a sad excuse for a bed and a woman coming over and sticking a needle into his arm for something or other - cure this, help you fight off that.

The thick ink mission required a lot of running around and - as a twist - actually hoping for ink monsters to pop up, then getting aggravated when they weren’t the type that they needed. Sammy took out the basic searchers, and at one point they’d both had to squeeze into a Miracle Station as ‘Bendy’ passed by. He didn’t pass through the room they were in, but it was still better safe than sorry. Most of the ink monsters they needed seemed to be more wary, hiding instead of trying to drag them into the ink. There was also a close call when a couple searchers managed to grab Henry’s feet and almost pulled him under. Henry could almost swear he could hear the voices of the Others calling to him. Luckily he’d managed to jab one of the in the head with the needle enough that it died and Sammy decapitated the other one.

They hadn’t talked about what had happened to Henry. Henry wasn’t sure if Sammy knew he had died. Henry himself could barely remember it; it had happened so fast. One moment he was almost at a Little Miracle Station, the next his head was turning too fast and too far. It felt fine now, but his brain kept telling him that there should be  _ something  _ wrong with it still, leading to him continuously rubbing it. The way Sammy looked at him when he noticed Henry doing it, though, made Henry wonder if he knew more than he’d said. 

“There you go.” Henry made a face as he dumped the ink globs and the syringe down the chute.

_ “Oh, how perfect. Now then, I have a rather fun favor to ask next. You know all of those grinning demons? Don’t you just hate them? I think it’s about time we got rid of them. I’ll even give you a second ax. I wouldn’t want one of my sweet little errand boys to miss out on the fun.” _

Henry took the ax. It was a bit lighter than the one Sammy had, but it had an edge that was sharp and that was really all he needed.

“I’m not going to lie, I can’t wait to do this.” Henry admitted to Sammy as they walked back into the Studio depths.

“How many more errands does she need us to run?” Sammy groaned.

“Hopefully not too many more. I wish this was the last one, but something tells me it’s not.” Henry swung the ax, tearing down the first of the Bendy cutouts. He glanced away from where it had stood, and when he looked back it was still in pieces on the floor. Good.

“... If I die, do you think I’ll die?” Henry stared at Sammy for a good long moment, trying to process what the other had said. Sammy on his part looked like he was trying to do the same, blinking rapidly before sighing angrily. “I mean like you. You died, but you came back. Does anybody even really die here? Are we just killing the same searchers over and over again?”

“I mean, we’d only know for sure if something happened to you. And I swear on my own life, we’re getting out of here.” Henry promised the musician, determination filling him. 

“But if it does happen… what’s it like?” Sammy’s expression was calm, rather deliberately so. Henry couldn’t say he was surprised. He was actually almost shocked that Sammy hadn’t asked him earlier, but then again Sammy had probably had a lot to think of already with trying to save Susie. So far, they hadn’t come to a solid decision. If they could get out, though, that was priority over all other things down in this Hell. 

“It was… Susie described it pretty well. There’s so many voices in there. Ink purgatory or whatever the Hell it is. If you’re not careful you start to lose yourself in the buzz of it all.” Henry shook his head, as if to clear out the residual memories of fading into the Others. It would’ve been so easy so just let go of himself, let himself become a part of the voices. 

“Jack would hate that.” Sammy’s comment was a bit quiet, but Henry couldn’t help but to smile at the memory of the Lyricist. Sammy and Jack had somehow, miraculously, managed to get along decently well with each other. They were partners in music, so in a way they had to be, but both men also loved their quiet and chances to work away from others. It was harder to imagine a better duo.

Except… Henry’s smile faded. Himself and Joey, everybody had always thought they’d been a rather good team. Joey, the Idea Man, the Head of the Company, the one who had goals and dreams he wanted to achieve, and his right hand man Henry, the one who took the ideas and made something of them, The Animator, The Creator, The Concept Artist. Of course, Joey wasn’t the best man to work with. Joey was the Dreamer, but Henry was really the one who managed to come up with the ideas that had made the Studio float - at least for a while there.

Henry was brought out of his thoughts as Sammy cut down a second Bendy cutout.

“I’ve wanted to wipe that grin off of his face for years.” Sammy actually smiled, though it was somewhat sinister looking. “That’s what you get for putting a bucket of ink over my doorway your little imp.”

Huh. Henry had almost forgotten that Sammy had memories of an on-model Bendy.

“Does - did - Bendy pull pranks on you a lot?” Sammy groaned.

“I’m his favorite to pull gags on. I’d wring his neck if he had one.” Sammy’s hands twisted on the ax handle as if it was said neck. “If he didn’t sign my checks I definitely would’ve kicked him down a flight of stairs by now.”

“Sign your- isn’t Joey-”

“He is as far as the public are aware, sure, Joey's in charge. Apparently Joey and Bendy agreed that the best person to run a cartoon studio is a cartoon. Most days I’m not sure which I’d prefer to be in charge.” Sammy shook his head.

“What about me. What am I like?” Henry asked, swinging his ax through a few searchers. 

“You’re… Henry.” Sammy shrugged. “I can stand you more than most of the idiots in here. There.” 

“And I haven’t… left? Or been drafted?”

“Drafted?!” Sammy’s head sharply turn to Henry. Henry self consciously rubbed his neck again. Yeah he could do without people quickly turning their head ever again. “You were  _ drafted?!” _

“Uh, yeah.”

“Is that why you were gone for thirty years?” Sammy’s brow was furrowed as he attempted to put pieces together.

“Well, I mean the war didn’t last thirty years. Before I left, Joey and I had a bit of fight. It… it didn’t end well. So I left and never came back until now. I can’t help but to think I’m a bit responsible for all of this.” Henry sighed, looking around at the Studio around them, inky and abandoned, rotting away.

“It was only a matter of time before Joey did something that dealt with the wrong kind of black magic.” Sammy took out another Bendy cutout. “I’m not surprised you needed to be gone for it to happen. I’m pretty sure Joey’s only summoned toons when you weren’t around.” Good to know even the Henry Sammy knew was Joey's entire self-control and conscience.

“How many has he summoned?”

“Only Bendy, Alice, and Boris so far. Every day I pray to God or whatever demon Joey uses that he doesn’t start thinking about what a nice addition the real life Butcher Gang could be.” Sammy grimaced at the mere thought.

“I would’ve loved to see them.” Henry said wistfully. He was sure he’d have been a bit upset with Joey for doing it, but he’d already used up all the upset and angry energy over this current situation - why even consider spending it on imagined situations? 

“Trust me, you’re lucky you don’t have to put up with them.”

Henry swung his ax and took out yet another Bendy cutout.

_ “Now wasn’t that fun? Better run and hide. Oh, didn’t I mention? The ink demon hates it when I do that.” _

Henry definitely didn’t remember Susie’s laugh being that haughty.

“Of course he hates it.” Sammy said through gritted teeth. 

“C’mon, I think I remember a Miracle Station a little ways ahead.” It was, as they had expected, quite the squeeze. Oh they could fit, but Henry had never in his entire life wanted to be this close to Sammy before.

“... I don’t see him. Do you think Susie was just pulling our leg?” Sammy whispered, attempting to wiggle around and see through the slit in the door.

“Shhhh!” Henry gently slapped Sammy’s arm in an attempt to get the man to shut up. Sammy slapped him back but quieted down. 

It was another long moment before the Ink Demon’s dark web began to flow through the room. Henry had never had this chance to watch as it steadily darkened, collecting on the floor and ceiling until drops of ink were steadily raining down. And they were both able to get a decent view of the demon’s torso and he limped past them. He probably was even taller than Sammy - who had been the tallest at the Studio when Henry left - and like every other time Henry and seen ‘Bendy’ he couldn’t help but to think about how tragic it was. The potential that was in him to have been something amazing - a living toon. And instead it was this twisted creature.

Both men hardly dared to breath until the monster was past them and the ink aura faded back to the familiar hand-drawn wood.

“... well, time to get back to Susie.”


	6. Night Time Chatting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammy and Alice talk  
> Henry has a nightmare

Henry slipped the ax into Susie’s drop off container. Sammy kept back, looking at the giant Alice Angel face.

There weren’t many in the Studio who would consider him a friend. Though to be fair, there were very few he would consider his own friends. Susie, though, Susie was one of the good ones. Against his will, originally, but she was one of the few people who would attempt to even hold a decent conversation with him or bothered to think to grab him a coffee when she was getting hers. It meant… more than he was willing to admit.

“Shit!” Sammy spun around at the familiar sound of searchers manifesting.

_ “Those disgusting slugs, imperfect creations! I will not go back into the darkness! Smash them into puddles! Kill them again!” _

“Of course she can’t just do it herself.” Henry huffed. Sammy regarded the other man. Even a thirty year difference from the Henry he knew, Sammy recognized that look. Henry was getting tired, like when he’d had to deal with too many ink explosions in one day. If this wasn’t the end of it, it’d probably be a good idea to take a moment and rest up. There weren’t any convenient hammocks like there had been in the bunker, but the elevator was a relatively safe place. And if Sammy was being honest, he himself was starting to feel a bit tired as well.

“I’ll get Charley’s, Barley’s, and Edgar’s, you pick up the searchers.” Henry nodded to said messed up toons that had emerged on the other side of room.

“Do you want the ax?” Sammy offered even as Henry rolled his shoulders and started jogging towards the ink monsters.

“I’ve got the pipe.” Henry held it up before swinging it down on a searcher that was in his way.

It didn’t take too long to finish the searchers that were coming for him. While Henry was taking on about four to five butcher gang members, Sammy stayed where he was as a couple wandered over to him. 

“If you die, I’m not dragging you out of the ink again!” Sammy called over. Henry took half a second to give a thumbs up. Sammy sighed as he cut his ax into a Barley’s side. “Goddammit Henry.”

_ “Sammy Lawrence,” _

Sammy jumped, nearly letting his arm get tangled in the fishing line connecting Barley’s head to his body. Another hit and Barley’s form came undone, the ink splatting and sinking into the wood. Sammy took one more look to make sure that Henry had the others handled before turning to the giant door behind him. 

“... Susie?”

Sammy set a hand on the metal. He half expected the quiet voice he had heard to take to the speakers and scream at him again, but instead he was met with a heartbeat of silence before the quiet and soft, so very Susie-like voice continued.

_ “Sammy Lawrence, what happened to your mask?” _

“My- what?” Sammy reeled back a bit.

_ “What happened to you, Prophet? What brought you down here? You’ve always steered clear of my web.” _

Ah. So she’d known Inky Sammy.

“That wasn’t me, Susie. There’s… something weird going on here.” There was her laugh. Still haughty, but underneath that he swore he could hear Susie’s laugh. When she was really happy and caught off guard, there was a bit of snort it in.

_ “Sammy, there has been ‘something weird’ going on down here for thirty years. Come back here, we should talk more.” _

“Susie, please come out here.” Sammy knocked on the door. He was sure if he could just see her he could get through to her, find the Susie left in the ink. She didn’t respond back though. Sammy turned back around to see Henry bashing in the skull of an Edgar. In a moment the ink monster was gone. 

_ “Finally, quiet like the grave. There’s still a few pests… but I can’t get rid of you two quite yet. Now then, I have some unfinished business I need you to tie up for me. It’s time you went deeper, further down into dark inky maze below. Enter the lift, and I’ll reintroduce you two an old friend of yours. But worry not, I won’t be sending you there without something to aide you. Perhaps you’re due for something with a little more… bang. Be gentle with it, it belonged to someone very important, many years ago.” _

The cylindrical device spun open, and Sammy heard a sharp intake of breath behind him. A tommy gun. Of all the things that she had offered them, a tommy gun had to be near the top of what Sammy had not been expecting. Sammy looked back at Henry, who was looking at the gun as if the devil was offering him his hand.

“I, uh… I should- I know how to use…” Henry’s voice trailed off. 

With agonizingly slow footsteps, Henry stepped towards the gun. He reached out, and just has his fingers brushed it, the gun burst into ink. Henry’s hand pulled back like a rubber band, the splatter of ink barely noticeable through all the other stains he’d already accumulated.

_ “Oh, did I forget to mention that it’s a bit hard to get a hold of? Oh well, off you go.”  _

Sammy really wanted Susie back…but dammit Alice was a bitch.

“Henry,” Sammy elbowed the older man, who look a few second to respond, eyes still staring at his own hands. “I think we should rest up before we go on.” Henry looked at Sammy, eyes shifting their gaze between each of Sammy’s eyes for a moment before he took in a deep shay breath that came out just as shakily.

“Yeah, yeah you’re right.”

oOo

In the end, they decided not to sleep in the elevator. Too big of a risk that Alice could send them to the lower, more dangerous floor and not let them back up until they had completed whatever she wanted them to do. They ended up setting up camp right in front of the Bendy statue. It was where Henry had managed to pull himself out of the ink, and maybe the statue would scare off any searchers? Distract them? It definitely made Sammy want to smash in that stupid grin. 

Then again, that could just be from all of the previous experiences Sammy had had with that face.

After telling Boris, the wolf had taken the pipe from Henry and then growled when Henry had attempted to take it back. Henry had sighed but plopped down in front of the statue and was out in moments. Sammy had joined him too, but it had taken a while for him to nod off, and sleeping was sporadic at best. When it seemed he was awake and there was no longer any hope to go back to sleep - about the fourth fitful awakening that… day? Night? - he decided that hey, talking to a nightmare may be just the perfect way to pass the time.

Boris has growled when Sammy had started to get up.

“Boris, I’ve got an ax, I can take care of myself.” Sammy waved the ax slightly as if to help show off that point. Boris sniffed, shaking his head, but didn’t stop Sammy. No searchers popped up as Sammy walked back to Susie’s door, the trip seeming much longer than it should’ve been. He paused, hand position to gently knock on the door, a pit growing in his stomach. This could go terribly wrong. He looked up to where Boris was, and the wolf had situated himself so he could watch both Henry and Sammy at the same time.

Okay. 

If something happened, Boris and Henry would come get him.

The three of them were getting out of here.

Before Sammy could knock, praying that Susie was on the other side, there was already a gently tapping.

_ “Sammy?” _

“I’m here Susie.” Sammy sighed, leaning against the door. “Susie, open the door, talk to me. I’m sure we can figure this out.”

Sammy’s heart leapt - whether in joy or fear, he wasn’t quite sure - as the metal doors groaned, opening a crack. Just a crack though, barely enough for Sammy to peek through and see an eye, Susie’s good eye, looking back at him.

“Come out here Susie.” Sammy demanded. Begged. He wasn’t really sure which right now.

“I’m afraid of what She’d make me do.” The eye looked down, almost shyly. “Sammy, I’m so tired. It’s been so long since I’ve walked to anybody. All that’s down here is screaming. The only ones to talk to, are the voices in the puddles.”

“What happened to you?” Sammy placed a hand on the crack.

“Joey Drew happened.” Her voice shifted for a heartbeat, back into the voice of a person he didn’t know, bitter and angry. 

“We can find a way to fix this.” It was a promise Sammy wasn’t entirely sure he could keep. He slipped her fingers through the crack, reaching out to her. 

“I don’t need to be fixed. I need to be perfect.” Susie whispered it to herself, but her fingers reached out and touched his. Both hands were black with ink. Sammy’s were covered it, but Alice’s felt a bit squishier, like she was wearing thick ink gloves. “I need to be Perfect.”

She grabbed onto Sammy’s fingers, a strong grip as if she was going to try and pull the musician through the gap. Her eye looked back up, suddenly wide and fearful as she let go of him, eyes wide as if she’d just been burned by the touch. 

“Susie-”

Susie darted back and out of sight. In a moment, the door slid shut again.

“Susie!” Sammy pounded on the door.

_ “I’m still here Sammy.”  _ Sammy relaxed upon hearing her voice again. There was still a chance.  _ “But She is getting restless _ _... do you still sing, Sammy Lawrence?”  _ Sammy blinked, caught a bit off guard.

“Yeah.” He didn’t do it much in front of others. In fact, he hated singing when there was an audience. Playing instruments was alright, if he was a part of a band, but solo was just… uncomfortable most of the time. 

_ “Sing the song you made for me.”  _ The song for Alice, with Susie’s vocal’s specifically in mind. Which of those she meant as ‘me’, Sammy wasn’t sure.

“I’m… I’m the cutest little angel, sent from above,”

_ “And I know how to swing.” _ Susie’s soft voice joined in.

“I got a bright little halo, and I’m filled with love… I’m Alice Angel.”

oOo

“Okay, so we’ve locked Sammy in a closet and are praying Jack and Boris will find a way to keep the music department going.” Henry closed the door behind him. Joey had ink on his arms up to his elbows and had towering stacks of archaic, demonic, and black magic texts taller than he was. “Have you found anything yet?”

“Well, yes and no?” Joey shrugged.

“C’mon, I need some good news.” Bendy begged from Henry’s shoulders. “I swear Sammy can sense when I walk by and starts loudly singing my praises. It’s making me sick.”

“The bad news is I still have no clue how to fix Sammy, what with all of Henry’s… conditions.” The chicken that Joey had almost sacrificed earlier pecked the man’s leg.

“And there’s still good news?”

“Yes, there is.” Joey pointed in the general direction of Sammy’s closet. “I don’t think that’s Sammy. Or, at least not our Sammy.”

oOo

Henry knelt down, watching as the ink vibrated. Was it an earthquake?

Something shot by his head, grazing his cheek and leaving a line of black there.

Oh.

Maybe it was the war going on.

Henry stood back up, watching the faceless men on the other side as bullets flew by.

They were people too, humans, alive and living. 

One of them fell back as a bullet passed right through their head.

Henry looked back at the soldiers on his own side. Their faces were a little less vague, a few more details, some easier to see than others.

“Henry?”

Something tugged on his shirt, and Henry looked down to see his own Devil Darling looking up at him.

“Bendy, what are you doing here? It’s dangerous.” Henry knelt down, taking the demon’s head in his hands.

“Why don’t you come back after this? Why did you let me die out here on the battlefield?”

“No, I didn’t-” Henry tried to explain, but never got any farther as something rolled to the ground in between. The familiarity of a grenade left a bitter taste in his mouth. “Bendy, get down!” 

He grabbed the toon, holding him close to his chest and turning away from the grenade as if somehow his back would be all the protection needed. 

The explosion consumed his world, and when Henry opened his eyes, well, he still had eyes to open.

The rest of the world, the battlefield, wasn’t so lucky. A smooth black surface was all that was left. Even Bendy was gone. 

“Hello? Is anybody out here?” Henry cupped his hands to his mouth, calling out.

“Henry!” Henry jumped back as a hand shot out of the ink, clawing up to him. Sammy’s head came out, desperate. “Henry, save us!”

“I’ve got you Sammy!” Henry grabbed Sammy’s wrist just as another hand appeared, just out of reach.

“Henry, Henry please,” Susie begged, half of her face melted off as she struggled to stay above the ink. “I can’t take it much longer please Henry I-I’m going to-”

“Just one moment Susie, I’ll get you in just a second.” Henry reassured as he pulled on Sammy’s arm, but he was steadily losing ground. 

“No, Henry please no-” A second and she was pulled back under.

“Susie!” Before he even realize what he had done, Henry let go of Sammy as he desperately clawed at the ink to reach the voice actress. 

“Hen-” Sammy’s head sunk back below the surface, only his hand still reaching out.

“Sammy, it’s okay,”

“No, it’s not Henry.” Henry looked over his shoulder. Sammy stood there, signature glare on his face as he looked down at Henry.

“Wh-”

“I’m not home. I need to get back home.” Sammy growled, walking to be in front of Henry. “So stop sinking lower and save  _ me,  _ Henry.” 

“But what about you?” Henry nodded down to the hand. It was no longer flesh, but inky and dripping.

“It’s too late.” Sammy stomped on the hand, sending it back down into the ink, and around them hundreds of other hands sprung up, voices screaming out for Henry. 

_ But what about the lights- _

_ -cut in my pay?! How could he do- _

_ -please no no Joey I’ll do anything just please please- _

_ \- is it him? _

_ Don’t do this, I kno- _

Henry put his hands over his ears, but it didn’t help. The voices weren’t around him. They were bubbling up from inside of him. They slipped out of his mouth, ink-covered souls forcing their way out of him where they had previously been trapped.

_ -ator? _

_ Crea- _

_ Creator. _

_ Creator! _

_ CREATOR! _


	7. The Minotaur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammy and Henry meet the Projectionist  
> Henry dies again

Henry awoke, body sore from sleeping on the ground, echoes of his dream rattling around in his head just barely cloudy enough to give him a hard time making sense of them.

Boris’s wolfish and constant smile was the first thing Henry saw, and at least that was one good thing to wake up to. He slowly sat up, looking around to see the Studio was exactly how it had looked before he’d gone to sleep. Sammy was a little ways away, facing mostly away from Henry. He was sitting cross-legged, ax across his legs, and was staring intently at the wall. With some ink, the musician had drawn five lines. Henry could just barely make out a messily scribbled in time signature and score followed by some notes. Sammy himself was softly singing, halting every so often to paint in a few new notes and try them out with the rest.

“Morning Sammy.” Henry stretched, trying to fix the awkward knot in his back. Sammy jumped, an inky hand slapping over his music and ruining about half of it. Upon seeing that it was just Henry, the man let out a frustrated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Ugh, give a man some warning Henry.”

“Working on anything good?” Henry leaned, trying to get a better view of the music. It’d been years since he’d played the saxophone, but given some time he could probably still read the music.

“It’s nothing.” Sammy insisted. “Just something to stave off the boredom.”

“Mhm.” Henry stood up, rubbing his hands down his face as he yawned. “C’mon, let’s get whatever this next thing is over with.”

Sammy stood up, stretching as well, and Henry caught him looking down at Susie’s door. Henry couldn’t stop the guilt that was steadily building in his stomach with every second he spent in this place. If he had been here, if he had even just come back, maybe Susie would be okay. And now he wasn’t sure whether or not he could save her.

But he could still save Sammy. This Sammy at least.

The trio climbed onto the elevator and the doors slid shut.

_ “It’s about time you got back to work. The demons do not sleep here, you’re lucky for the time you were able to steal. Let’s get back to business, shall we? I need you to collect five ink hearts for me.” _

Henry could already tell he was going to hate this. Sammy’s face scrunched up, showing that Sammy wasn’t looking forward to this either. 

Level 14 was much bigger than the others. The two men stepped out, getting their bearings of the new surroundings. On one hand, it was nice to have a change of scenery, even if said scenery still had the color of yellowed paper and ink was everywhere. Henry walked over to the edge of the walkway, which was raised above the rest of the room. Below them stretched a thick well of ink. From where he stood he could see a couple more Bendy statues.

“Damn.” Sammy was looking down crossly at the inky lake below. “If there was a worse time to not have my galoshes, I’d love to see it.”

“Galoshes?” Henry looked over to Sammy, who was now started to walk towards the stairs.

“Yeah. I smartened up at some point after wading through ink to get to my office for the hundredth and started to wear them. Last I heard, some people from various departments wanted to make and sell pairs of galoshes that looked like dress shoes.” Sammy halted right before he turned towards the stairs, sighing loudly. “Welp. I’m not sure what I expected. I really shouldn’t be surprised at this point.”

“About wh- oh.” Henry stared down at the Edgar. He seemed dead, but for whatever reason he wasn’t splattered. Clutched in his dead hands was a rather anatomically correct heart. Henry wasn’t entirely sure why he’d thought they’d look like the hearts one would see in a cartoon, perhaps because they were cartoon characters, but it was obvious now that he had been very wrong. Sammy leaned down and picked it up, nose crinkled in disgust.

“That’s one I guess, only four more to go.”

_ “Shhhhshshhh, keep quiet, keep low, here he comes. The minotaur of this maze. The Projectionist. Searching for intruders in his final refuge. If he catches you in his light, you’d best start running. Make sure you bring me back my parts.” _

Sure enough, a beam of light cut through the dim room. Sammy and Henry both quickly ducked down, as much behind the barrel in front of them as the both of them could be at the same time. The creature that lumbered forward reminded Henry somewhat of ‘Bendy’, in the fact that it was surprisingly humanoid. It’s head was replaced by a projector, the source of the light. It was a ways away from them, and they were well out of range of the monster’s light, but it didn’t make Henry feel any better about what they were going to have to do. Walking in the ink wasn’t exactly a quick and simple stroll. Running was going to be… interesting. Henry  _ would  _ say impossible if the fear of death didn’t let people do amazing feats to stay alive. 

Not that adrenaline and fear had helped him too much with his run in with the Ink Demon.

“So-” Henry started. Sammy glared at Henry.

“Fine. But just because I want to be down here even less than I want to be anywhere else in this abyss.” Sammy stood up, ax in a ready position, the ink heart he already had in the single pocket of the overalls. The man still didn’t have a shirt, but he was covered in enough ink it was almost like he was just wearing a really-patchy black one.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.” Henry stood up as well, looking in the direction the Projectionist had been.

“You want to split up. We’ll make better time and then only one of us can be chased by that beast at a time. And if you weren’t suggesting it, I am now and we’re doing it.” Sammy went to the next set of stairs, this one leading down into the ink.

“Are you okay?” Sammy was grumpy constantly, that was a given. But there was just something… off about him.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just had a rough ‘night’.” Sammy didn’t look back as he descended, the ink nearly reaching his knees as he set off in the direction they’d seen the Projectionist. A moment later Henry followed suit, taking a moment to quickly check out the area behind the raised platform before heading to the belly of the beast. He just barely caught Sammy heading to the right passageway before the man disappeared from view. Left it was then.

Henry’s heart stopped when he saw light, convinced for an entire second that he’d be caught, only to realize that the projection wasn’t coming from the monster. It was just a random clip playing on the wall for whatever reason. Bendy, carrying a picnic basket. Henry recognized it immediately as from Tombstone Picnic. He’d drawn it himself, after all. The first short animation they’d produced.

There were several more projectors, sitting in the ink or on boxes and projecting several other scenes onto the walls.

“Oh thank God.” Henry found himself smiling upon seeing a Miracle Station. Alright. There was somewhere to hide. 

Henry patted the Station and continued deeper into the depths. It quickly became obvious that he would have a bit of a tough time getting back to the Station. Like the rest of the building, it was as if whoever made it - Joey? The sentient Ink Machine? - had decided that maze-like was the only way to make hallways.

He was just starting to feel relatively comfortable when he realized that one of the lights he was heading towards was getting brighter and moving slightly up and down. Quietly, holding his breath, Henry took a few steps back until he was mostly behind a wall and the Projectionist lurched into view. Up closer, Henry could see a speaker strapped to its chest. Great, another (possibly) talking ink monster to deal with. Because the last two had been nice to work with.

Henry wondered if the hearts that were supposed to be scattered around here was the monster's doing. So far he hadn’t come across any searchers, and all the other beings down here were dead. What did it mean that ink monsters would appear on Alice’s front door, but not down here?

The Projectionist’s head turned towards him and Henry quickly ducked the rest of the way behind the wall. He heard its legs splashing the ink as it moved and Henry darted back the way he’d come. It didn’t seem to have seen him.

It took a little while longer of quietly and stressfully wandering through the ink for Henry to find another one of the ink hearts. Henry supposed he should consider himself lucky that it wasn’t beating and bleeding ink everywhere. Alright, that was at least two down. It couldn’t be too much harder to find three more down here.

“HENRY!” 

Henry straightened up as Sammy yelled and a loud shriek-scream filled the air, practically vibrating the bones in Henry’s body. Loud splashing followed and Henry turned around to see that perhaps he hadn’t been so lucky after all. Behind the monster, Henry could see Sammy standing there, two hearts in his hands. Henry held up the heart in his own hand and placed it back down in the ink.

“Run Sammy!” Henry shouted as the Projectionist jumped forward, hand outstretched as it screamed again, grabbing Henry’s head and slamming it into the wall, sending Henry back into the ink.

oOo

“Shit, Henry!” Sammy shouted as Henry’s corpse sunk into the wall, becoming ink. The Projectionist started to turn around and Sammy’s self-preservation instincts kicked in. Running in ink was tough, but it was better than dying and getting sent to ink purgatory. Sammy slipped into a Miracle Station with the Projectionist breaths behind him. Please God, let this monster be stupid.

The monster was, indeed, stupid enough to become confused when Sammy was no longer in front of him. After the Projectionist had stomped off to somewhere else, Sammy hurried over to where Henry had been killed. The ink heart Henry had held up earlier was still there and Sammy added it to his pile. Four out of five, just one more. But there was no way he’d be able to carry the last one. 

Boris whined as Sammy set the hearts in a pile on the elevator, the wolf moving to the opposite side of them.

“Sorry.” Boris stretched to look behind Sammy and then out towards the maze. “Oh, Henry died again. Idiot.” Sammy growled, arms crossed and looking back at the Bendy statues. Nope. He wasn’t back yet. Sammy tapped his foot on the ground impatiently. “I’ll be back later. If Henry pops back up… howl or something.”

Sammy’s nose scrunched up as the cold ink squelched into his shoe. His least favorite part of his job, and this place was truly hell to make him wade through gallons and gallons of ink. He stopped short as on his trek back into maze as the Projectionist’s light pierced through the entrances. Sammy ducked behind a box in the ink. He was probably still far enough away that the ink monster wouldn’t see him, but better safe than sorry. If he could avoid dying and sinking into the ink, that’d be great. Sammy peeked over the top to see if the Projectionist was still there, hand hitting something.

Another cassette. What poor sap worker did Joey make record this one.

_ “Now I’m not lookin’ for trouble. It’s just the nature of us projectionists to seek out the dark pieces. You see, I’ve learned the ins and outs of this here studio. I know how to avoid being bothered by the likes of this… company. ‘That projectionist,’ they always say, ‘is creeping around, he’s just looking for trouble.’ Well trouble or not, I sees everything. They don’t even know when I’m watchin’. Even when I’m right behind ‘em.” _

“Norman?” Sammy hadn’t even known the man had recorded any of these. To make him do that, Joey would've had to pin the man down first. Just as the recording said, Norman knew how to slip away when he wanted to. Sammy wouldn’t be surprised - though he would be incredibly upset - if Norman knew about his sanctuary.

… did Norman become a searcher? Had he managed to leave the Studio before all of this went down or had he drowned in the ink? 

Sammy struggled through the ink, dodging behind walls and glaring at the clips of ‘Tombstone Picnic’ on the wall. He’d nearly had a heart attack multiple times while wandering these halls and fearing he’d been caught in the Projectionist’s light. He grumbled under his breath about Henry making him do all the work again, but he listened carefully in case the man did emerge from the ink. The artist probably would have some trouble getting away from an attacking monster if he was coughing up ink again.

“Five.” Sammy sighed as he picked up the oddly-stiff organ. Finally he could get out of here. There was another a short ways away, but no way was he going to be holding more of these than he needed to. Would these be able to help Susie? Would anything they had done help bring her to her senses? Or was each thing they brought for ‘Alice’ another nail in Susie’s coffin, drowning what was left of the girl in the ink body that desired perfection? He wanted to save her… but Henry had promised to save Boris’s and Sammy’s lives from here. He doubted Henry was happy about the prospect of leaving the voice actress behind, but if they could leave, they had to take the chance. They could come back with more supplies.

And if Sammy kept telling himself that, maybe he’d actually start to feel better about the prospect of losing his friend.

A static-like roar filled the room and Sammy whipped around as the Projectionist ran over to him. He looked desperately for a Miracle Station, a secret passage, some way out, but of course he was going to be in a dead end. The monster’s hand rammed into Sammy’s stomach, pushing him up against the wall while the other hand was raised high. This was it. He was going to die here. What if he couldn’t take the buzzing ink voice fish bowl? What if he became a searcher? That was probably possible. Would he at least be able to find out what had happened to himself? What had happened to the others? Wally, Shawn, Lacie, Johnny, Nor-

Norman.

Sammy looked at the Projectionist’s head. It wasn’t much to go off of, but it was a projector with was definitely the man’s staple.

“Norman Polk?” Sammy’s voice was weak, seeing at most of the air was knocked out of him. The good news was that the other hand hadn’t come down and split his head open yet. The monster’s head tilted to the side, its beam intensifying and forcing Sammy to squeeze his eyes shut. He flinched as something touched his cheek and pushed it sharply to the side. Crackling static rumbled from in front of him as the bright light dimmed down.

“Sssszzzzammmmkewlll.” Sammy blinked his eyes open, looking back at the beast. Its grip on him loosened.

“Did you just say… Samuel? Norman?” Norman howled, hands going up to grab his ‘head’, and as much as Sammy wanted to know how much of the man was left in the monster, he also realized this was his chance to run. So run he did, all the way back to the elevator with Norman’s pained cries to his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i headcanon that all the things that Norman sees is in silhouettes, so he wouldn't recognize anybody unless he sees their profile


	8. Everyone Lies, Everyone Dies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry comes back to life  
> Sammy dies

_ -axes aren’t going to file themsel- _

_ At this rate, this frame will never be fi- _

_ Too loud, can’t we just shut off that machine for t- _

_ Cre- _

_ -mpossible to meet his expectations! _

_ -an anybody hear me?! Where am I what is th- _

Henry wrenched himself free from the mob of voices and thoughts. He knew how to do this, he’d gotten out of here in one piece before and he could do it again. It was a lot easier to get his bearings this time, seeing as he actually had an idea of what was going on.

_ Creator! _

Henry jumped at the sharp voice, so much clearer and closer than all of the others. Something tugged at his being, and Henry got the feeling that something in this ink was staring at him, scrutinizing him under its gaze.

_ Let… go! _

Henry added his thought, a scream through the mass, and realized too late that it may not’ve been the best idea. It didn’t grow silent, but most of the other whispers quieted down and suddenly he knew that he had attracted the attention of far too many beings.

_ Creator! _

_ -o is this who are y- _

_ -enry? I thought you le- _

_ -ix us fix us fix us! _

It was like a wave bearing down on him and Henry reeled away from it, managing to throw off whatever had tried to grab onto him. Desperately he searched around him, relief filling him upon finding light in the darkness, where the inky masses parted to allow a way out.

_ Please I can’t be alone please- _

Another being attempted to grab Henry but Henry managed to dodge around them as he surged up to the light. One arm, two arms, a head and lungs and torso and yes, there they were, his legs. Henry gasped as his head broke through not only the ink of the studio but a pool of ink. Was he still on floor 14? He didn’t have too much time to think of it as he bent over, ink spilling from his mouth, joining the pool that surrounded him.

A sharp whistle caught Henry’s attention and he turned to see Boris leaning over the ledge of the tall structure in the room, looking down at him. Sammy himself was hurrying down the stairs, covered in even more ink than when Henry had last scene him. Henry held up a hand, best he could currently do for a wave, attempting to get to his feet. He looked toward the maze entrance and was relieved to see that the Projectionist wasn’t currently near them.

“Next time you die, I’ll kill you.” Sammy threatened as he helped Henry to the stairs, Henry struggling to keep his feet under him. Dead for a few minutes and apparently he’d already started to forget how to properly walk.

“Then I’ll drag you down with me.” There was no real heat behind the threat as they climbed the first set of stairs. A roar echoed through the room, and Henry looked over the rail to see the Projectionist looking around. Curiously, it seemed to be leaning against the walls for support. “Sammy-”

“ZZZSSSSAAAANMMMMHHHH,” The monster crackled, beam swinging back and forth. Henry looked back at Sammy, whose face was a mix of annoyed and pained.

“Did it just say…?”

“We’ll come back for you Norman!” Sammy shouted. The monster’s gaze turned up towards them, another scream coming from the speaker of its chest. “Okay let’s go, I don’t know how right he is in the… head.”

“Wait, that was Norman?” Henry looked back, calling the old man’s name, and the beast’s cries grew louder and more desperate.

“We have to give the hearts to Susie.” Sammy reminded Henry, continuing up the next set of stairs. “Afterwards we can, I don’t know, come back and start trying to talk some sense into him as well?”

“What did Joey do?” Henry whispered, slowly following Sammy as he continually looked back at the Projectionist. It wasn’t even a recognizable toon, or capable of coherent speech like the other Sammy had been. What had happened?

“Are you going to help me carry these?” Sammy nodded down to the pile of hearts in the elevator.

“No.” Henry replied even as he leaned down and picked three up. Sammy hit the button for level 9 and the grate slid close. Boris walked over to Henry, looking him over curiously. “Don’t worry, I’m still me.” Henry scratched the top of Boris’s head - a bit of a stretch for the short man - and Henry imagined the wolf’s tail would be wagging if he had one. Henry still questioned his decision on not giving him one. When they reached the ninth floor, however, Boris drew away from Henry, fearfully looking down towards Susie’s door. “Don’t worry, we’ll be out of here before you know it.”

“C’mon Henry, the sooner we get down there, the sooner I don’t have to hold these anymore.” Sammy called, already halfway down the stairs. Henry quickly caught up, dumping his hearts in after Sammy and then looking to the door, waiting for whatever it was that Alice decided she needed next.

_ “Congratulations, my to-do list has been completed. My two little errand boys, our time together has come to an end. I enjoyed this. I’m sure you did too. Return to the lift. It’s time to ascend.” _

“Susie, come with us.” Sammy put his hand on the door, looking at it as if he could look through and see the twisted creature their friend had become.

_ “Sa… I. Am Alice Angel. Leave while you can.”  _ Susie’s voice sounded more Susie-like for a moment. Her attempt to say Sammy’s name was strangled, as if to choke it out the name completely would cause her too much pain. 

“We’ll come back for you.” Sammy repeated his promise, and Henry looked the man in the eyes, nodding in agreement. They’d be back, prepared for what was down here. There was Susie to save, Norman to save, so many others to find out what had happened to them. And Henry doubted that once they were out, they’d magically know what had happened to Sammy. The answer was down here somewhere, and Henry was going to find out what it was, even if he died in doing so. 

The moment they entered the lift, Boris dragged both men close into a hug, shaking slightly. Henry patted the toon’s shoulder and Sammy just sort of took it awkwardly. 

“Are you okay?” Henry asked, frowning up at the wolf. The wolf just shook his head, holding the men tighter.

“Alright, that’s about as much touchy-feely as I can take.” Sammy pushed away from the wolf, going to lean against one of the elevator walls.

_ “Have you ever wondered what Heaven is like?”  _ The high-pitched Alice voice crackled on.  _ “I’ve always imagined it to be quite beautiful. A soft field of green grass, a warm and beautiful sun above, friends all around to greet me… I don’t think I’ll ever get to see it. Are you two ready? The Heavens await.”  _ The hairs on the back of Henry’s neck rose as Boris began to shake more. One thought - instinct - shot through him, sharp and clear:

Danger.

“Sammy we need to get out of here.” Henry pulled away from Boris and started hitting random buttons on the elevator, but nothing happened. Alice giggled through the speaker, which quickly evolved into a villainous laugh that wrapped around Henry like a cold breeze. He snatched the ax out of Sammy’s hands and attempted to cut through the walls they were passing, to break anything, but nothing happened save for a few dents.

The elevator stopped, for a single skipped-beat of Henry’s heart, and it dropped.

Boris howled, hands clutching his head, and Sammy looking around the death-box they were trapped in looking very much like a soldier, far too young, finally realizing what a battlefield was.

_ “Did you really think I’d let you steal from me?! Did you think I’d just let you go?! No, Henry! I know who you are, Creator! And I, I know why you’re here!”  _ Henry had to stop himself from asking her what she knew. Did she know about the letter, if Joey had really written it?  _ “You will not stop what needs to be done! Now hand over that Boris! So perfect, stable, I need him! I’ll tear him apart until I’m beautiful again! And Sammy Lawrence, the Prophet that has flesh once more! Your sacrifice will be well worth it to find out how you escaped your inky prison of a body! Give them to me, Henry! GIVE THEM TO ME!”  _

The speed they were going down increased, and Boris grabbed Henry, pulling him tight against his chest as he moved towards the front part of the elevator. The poor toon was an absolute mess, inky tears running down his face in fear. Henry looked over Boris’s shoulder to see Sammy was sitting on the ground, back against the wall. One hand over his mouth, the other pulling at his hair as he stared at the ground. Henry had never seen the bitter man look so scared, so distraught. 

The lift stopped fast and hard as it hit the bottom of its shaft, and the world disappeared into darkness and pain, a sickening splatter among the screech of metal being the last thing Henry heard as Boris pulled him even tighter and closer.

oOo

Consciousness rushed back to Henry, eyes blinking open as a blurry world began to become shapes once more. Boris was right in front of his face, gently patting his head and shoulders in an almost-shake, brow furrowed in worry. Henry tried to open his mouth and respond, reassure the wolf, but he was just tired, pain a constant across his body. The most he was able to do was give a groan, but even just that made the wolf perk up. With minimal movement, Henry attempted to get a view of what was going on around him. Sammy was nowhere in sight, but Henry had a sinking suspicion what had happened to the other.

He blinked - a painfully slow blink - as something shifted behind Boris, a shadow taking shape into a humanoid being. It took Henry too long to recognize her, but when he did panic managed to make its way through his pained and exhausted brain. 

“Brr-s,” Henry grunted out, attempting to warn Boris of the corrupted angel approaching him from behind. The lights in the room flickered out, and Henry wondered if that was Alice’s - Susie’s - doing, if she could do that without seeming to use any sort of device or control panel. “Brrris!” Henry tried to be louder, more desperate. Boris’s hands stilled from their comforting pats.

The light above them turned on just long enough for Henry to watch as Boris was dragged down the hall. 

No. No no no. He’d failed. Goddammit he’d failed. Sammy was dead, Boris was going to die, and he… he would probably die down here. Alone. Linda would never know what happened to him. The bang of the elevator when it had impacted the ground resonated with something inside of Henry in his distress. Henry blinked in the pure darkness, shapes slowly taking form. Smoke, unsettled dust, guns and bombs and screaming and death. He was surrounded by death. Henry felt his breathing pick up, chest tight. A part of him screamed out; he’d gone through this, he’d recovered, he was  _ better than this.  _ But even as he thought that he blinked and his stomach cried out in sharp pain. If he had enough power to move he would’ve curled in on himself. He looked down and the darkness shifted to become himself in a uniform that was quickly becoming stained with blood.

_ ‘Henry!’  _ Henry fell back, the cold dirt doing little to cushion his fall. A face swam into focus above him, Johnson’s concerned face as he threw his gun aside and went to put pressure on the wound.  _ ‘Henry, it’s going to be okay!’ _

_ No,  _ Henry wanted to tell him, to warn him of the future,  _ No it’s not. _

oOo

_ No one can save me he- _

_ -here are the papers you wante- _

_ The coffee machine broke agai- _

_ -lease can’t you all hear me I nee- _

_ -agic shouldn’t’ve been messed with. _

S… it started with an S… Sssss… Samuel? Samuel, Samuel, Samuel… that was it, that was right, but there should’ve been something more right… He found it glimmering among the Others, Them desperately wanting something concrete to call themselves. But They couldn’t have it, it was his. He took it back, knocking them all away as he claimed Sammy back. Yes there it was, he was Sammy. Sammy Lawrence. He looked around, relieved to see he himself was whole, no other parts of him scattered. The man, Henry, what had he said about this pl-

_ -at happened to the Proph- _

_ He’s coming for us, he’s going to- _

-ace God that was annoying! Right, try and stay clear of the fish part of the fishbowl and keep his own fish together. Swim them out of here… How did he get out of here?

_ … Sammy? _

Sammy looked around, on the defense at his name being called through the void. A single ‘fish’, small and delicate, shimmered among the inky mass. 

_ Who are you? _

Sammy whispered into the mass, voice nearly getting lost with thoughts of the Others. The small thing drew closer, and he was able to see it was cobbled together. Bits and pieces, shards that didn’t fit together but belonged to the same puzzle. 

_ Sammy… _

That voice, he knew that voice.

Susie!

_ -my daughter I’m so proud of her- _

_ -ommy are you there, please mommy- _

_ -ame is Elicia and she just turned th- _

That was Susie. So small, such a tiny piece of her. He reached out and she ‘swam’ over, brushing up against him and then grabbing on to his being. He wasn’t alone anymore, he had Susie in here with him. The tensed state he had been in started to fade, the voices growing louder with his complacency. Stay… he could stay here…

_ Joey? You wanted to see me? Wha- _

_ -ammy was supposed to get that music to me this mo- _

_ Let me out of here! Out of the way I n- _

No he couldn’t! Boris was out there, and Henry, and… Susie. The majority of her was out there. He looked around again, letting the small little drop of Susie stay close to him. An opening, he needed an opening… There! The Others seemed to avoid that spot. If he could just pull himself out.

He surged towards it, pushing past all of the Others on his way. He could make it. He had to make it. But even as he reached it, just a moment from the light, the edge of himself shimmering and beginning to take shape again, he hesitated. The little ‘fish’ that was clinging to him attempted to burrow deeper, something akin to fear jumping off of it and gently prodding at him. 

_ Ladies first. _

The soul-becoming-hand that was his guided the fish out while unattached to the rest of him. He was decently sure that rule number one of leaving ink purgatory was bring nothing back that wasn’t You, but he couldn’t just leave her. Not again.

Together, they broke through the ink and he breathed in dusty air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy, notes do I have!
> 
> Okay so I knew that I wanted Sammy to die for his first time in the elevator. But originally, when I was planning it, I was going to have Henry grab the ax and cut off Sammy's head in a desperate move to keep Alice from getting her hands on him. But then as I reached this part, I realized that the way I portray them, they wouldn't do it, especially with Henry not being absolutely positive Sammy would survive it.
> 
> Alright, big note right here. I've been posting a chapter whenever I finish it - 2,500+ word being when I deem a chapter big enough to post usually- but I've started to think that maybe I should update like every Sunday instead? I want the story to follow the plot of Batim, which includes chapter five. So either I keep updating like I do and we eventually hit a decently long hiatus, or we slow things down and hopefully keep the break to a minimum. Input on the decision would be very appreciated ^-^


	9. Standing Up Through the wreckage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammy has an unsettling few moments as he leaves ink purgatory  
> Henry is doing pretty okay

Sammy bent over, on his hands and knees as he coughed violently, black ink sludge pouring out of his mouth. His bones felt like jello, and Sammy grimaced as said bones felt like they were solidifying. For all he knew, they were. He looked around, confusion nudging at his brain. Where was he again? Right, the lift. It’d fallen and he had died. Maybe if he was lucky, he was still close to the crash and he could check and see if Henry and Boris were still there. 

A second wave of confusion swept through Sammy. Sammy, who had just started to climb back to his feet, fell to one knee. He had no reason for this unsettling feeling, and Sammy took in his surroundings once more. He was in front of a Bendy statue - no surprise there - and standing before him were inky replicates of people, probably just statues too. Sure, he didn’t recognize them, but he was used to unknown by now,  _ he was. _

Third burst of confusion, a bit more desperate than the last, pulling on the barest ghost of thoughts of _‘where’, ‘how’, ‘help’._ Sammy reached up to his head, as if to physically reassure his brain that this confusion was unnecessary. The tops of his knuckles brushed something cold and wet. Okay now he had a second vein of confusion, but he knew where this one was coming from. Sammy’s hand snapped away from the Thing, and he glanced around to see if there was anything reflective in the immediate vicinity. No such luck, of course, not even a big enough ink puddle to get a vague impressionistic view. Sammy grumbled in frustration, a headache slowly developing from the ever-present confusion - which was  _ still growing -  _ as he reached up towards whatever was above him. His nose scrunched up as he grabbed the undoubtedly-inky Thing in his hand. A jolt of surprise laced with hesitant fear replaced the confusion. For a terrifying half-second the Thing didn’t move from its place floating above his head as he tugged. Then, like it’d been cut loose, the Thing broke away from its position as he yanked it down. With it left the odd emotions that he now knew for sure were not his.

The Thing, as it turned out, was exactly what it had felt like: a glob of ink. It sluggishly almost-squirmed in his hands, and Sammy nearly dropped it in disgust. He stopped just shy of doing so, fingers unclenched from it and hand tilted just barely before it could roll off. He looked at it, as unremarkable as it was, and then back to the spot where he’d returned from the ink fish bowl. There was nothing else there. No sign of the tiny part of Susie he’d found. Sammy looked down at the glob, fingers slowly and gently curling back around it as he place it - her? - in the big pocket of his overalls, patting it comfortingly. 

“Don’t worry, Susie, I’ll save you.”

oOo

Seconds, minutes, days, centuries later, the lights in the room turned back on and Henry blinked rapidly at the sudden change. The battlefield had faded not long ago, and with the lights Henry finally found the strength to get back to his feet. For such a crash, Henry’s worst injury was a shallow cut down his leg, most of the injuries simply battered bruises. He didn’t doubt for a second that his state was only thanks to Boris. He took off his tie - the article of clothing that was more clean than it was ink-drenched - and wiped off some blood. In a perfect world he’d probably clean it and bandage it properly, but there was no such luxury here. He’d already wasted enough time. He needed to find Sammy, then Boris. Sammy had hopefully gotten out of ‘purgatory’ by now.

Of course, Henry was assuming the man hadn’t just died instead.

Henry looked at the mess around him, seeing if there was anything useful. There was no sign of his pipe, and he hoped Boris had it, though he knew the hope was likely in vain. Sammy’s ax, however, was still there, and looking no worse for the wear than when Henry had last seen it. The familiar weight of it eased Henry’s tension and stress a bit. He rolled his shoulders, ready to take on this hell hole once again.

“Level S.” Henry read. Why couldn’t this place have normal numbers? He had no idea how far below ground he was, or how far this place even went. The hall split, but Henry could clearly see that one ended in a dead end, the passage that went towards the archives. The other way went towards Grant Cohen’s room. Henry raised an eyebrow at that. Last time he’d been here, Grant’s office had been right next to Joey’s on the first floor. The man had requested it specifically so that he could constantly bug Joey about this lack of listening to the advice Grant time and again attempted to give him.

“Grant?” Henry called as he walked in the direction of the man’s apparent office. Did he honestly think the man was still down here? No, but if the man was a monster maybe he’d roar in response and then at least Henry would know there was a monster down here. But nothing did roar so Henry continued on. One of the doors was locked, leaving only one option, which was fine with Henry. Less paths meant less places he could be attacked from… unless something decided to burst through the door and attack him.

Henry adjusted his grip on the ax, looking suspiciously at the locked door as he opened the other one… and then nearly dropped the ax in surprise.

The work of a madman greeted him.

Grant Cohen had been a focused man who took his work very seriously. He’d ranted to Henry time and again about Joey’s spending habits and ‘at this rate this company will be out of business by... the end of this sentence!’ He'd always tried to talk to Joey about it.

_ ‘The man doesn’t listen, Henry! I’ve shown him the figures but he just keeps saying that he has a dream for this studio! I tell him there’s not enough money to do something, and he does it anyway! I swear, Henry, Joey thinks belief can make money spout out of a fountain pen!’ _

_ ‘You know what they say, never argue with a man who buys his ink in barrels.’  _ Henry had replied with a sigh, knowing Grant’s frustrations all too well. Grant had huffed and commented that usually that saying referred to the media, not the most annoying boss in existence. The level-headed man had never shown this kind of madness inside. At least, not when Henry had known him.

The walls of the office were covered in inky words, sentences and phrases and numbers overlapping and blurring into each other. 'Time is Money' repeated over and over like a scream that echoed on for ages. Henry’s gaze was brought away from the walls as he became aware of gurgling-bubbling sound that set his instincts on edge, looking to the man’s work table. A mass of ink splashing, writhing in front of a cassette player. Henry reached around the ink and hit the play button, flinching as a drop of the black liquid landed on his arm.

Henry recoiled at the sounded that came from the player. He knew it must’ve been Grant, but it was impossible to tell. It sounded like someone being drowned, reminiscent of the sounds Henry knew he himself made when he coughed up ink. But the coughing didn’t stop. It sounded so desperate, so painful. Like a soldier choking on his own blood.

“Grant,” Henry whispered, and maybe it was just his imagination but the mass of ink’s movements seemed to increase. 

A sick kind of curiosity filled him as he stared at the creature. He reached out, a few fingers brushing the core part of it and he gasped at the sudden crash of anger-panic-confusion that hit him like a tidal wave, the single sentence ‘Time is Money’ loud and clear in his head.

“Grant?” Henry repeated, and dared to touch it again, but nothing had changed. If this was some remnant of the man, there didn’t seem to be anything Henry could do for it. He looked at the blob, face scrunched up. A part of him wanted to grab the ink and take it with him, another wondered if he should see if an swing of the ax could take it out for surely this existence wasn’t a comfortable and good one. In the end he didn’t do either, though, just left Grant to his bubbling.

Henry looked around one more time, wondering just how long Grant had been down here, slowly going insane. 

Nearly hidden amongst a clump of rubble, Henry spotted a wheel like the one he’d had to get from an ink monster on the second floor. Henry picked it up, figuring it’d probably come in handy sooner rather than later, and he was right. The hall that had seemed to be a dead end just needed the wheel to open it. 

For the second time, Henry regretted opening a door.

Standing on a platform were horribly almost-skeletal humanoid figures, looking as if they were praising a Bendy statue. Three lights shown on them, highlighting the banner above the statue: He Will Set Us Free. Henry slowly edged further into the room, ax held at the ready, but the figures didn’t move. Henry reached across the platform and poked one of the legs and the ink didn’t so much as flinch. Had somebody molded these out of ink? Why?

If there was another being like Sammy Lawrence - the 'Prophet' one - that  tried to sacrifice Henry, Henry was going to dive off into the nearest abyss and not even consider looking back.

“Henry?” Henry brought his ax down in front of him, ready to cave in some ink monster heads, at his name. 

“Sammy?” Henry replied hopefully, but still not trusting anything he couldn’t see. Henry edged around the stage and saw Sammy leaving a room that seemed to be filled with books and bookshelves. Henry hadn't realized how afraid he was that Sammy had honestly died in the crash until he saw the man well and alive. In fact, he looked like he had less ink on him than when Henry had last seen him. Apparently that was one good thing that came from ink purgatory.

“You’re okay?” Sammy asked as he jogged over, seemingly in fine condition.

“Yeah, just a big banged up.” Henry reassured the composer. “I see you managed to make it out in one piece.”

“And then some.” Henry raised an eyebrow as Sammy reached into his pocket and pulled out a mound of ink. “I found this while I was in there.”

“What is it?” Henry asked, one hand still tight on his ax and the other reaching out to the ink. His fingers brushed it and it may'be been his imagination that it wiggled a bit at his touch. He didn't get the same sudden mental burst that he'd gotten from Grant, however.

“Susie.” Sammy held it closer. “Or at least, a little piece of her. It must’ve gotten pulled away during one of the times she was in the ink.”

“What are you going to do with it?” Henry thought back to what was left of Grant.

“I’m… not really sure.” Sammy put her back into his pocket. “It’s not like it’s really her, and it doesn’t seem all that alive or even cognizant.”

“... we’ll find a way to save her.” After having said it and thought it so many times, the phrase itself was starting to sound fake, like a lie being ripped off of his tongue that he just couldn’t stop. 

“Where’s Boris?” For a moment, Henry had almost forgotten about the wolf. Forgotten that Sammy hadn’t watched Boris being dragged away, almost like he’d been pulled by an other-worldly force. It made Henry wonder exactly how much they knew about Susie - no, this was definitely Alice’s - abilities.

“Susie got him.” Henry grit out, not looking Sammy in the eyes.

“Goddamnit!” Ah, Henry had started to wonder what had happened to Sammy’s temper, to the point where a small part of him worried that it got lost in the ink. Sammy looked around, like he was ready to throw or hit something. “So we’re going after him.”

“Of course we are. The three of us are getting out of here.” Henry replied with conviction. “Where did you come back?”

“The Bendy statue.” Sammy glared towards said statue. “A fantastic awakening in front of the ink modern art men. I haven’t found much down here, just a door that needs  _ something  _ done to open it. Oh, and another cassette.”

Henry wondered if eventually he would ever stop worry that a tape would hold more of that choking sound. 

“Who was it?” Henry asked as the two slowly moved into the archive part of the room. 

“Susie again. She referred to herself as Alice in it.” Sammy gave a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t wait to see my Susie.” 

And yeah. There was _that_ problem still there. 

“Let’s figure out how to get that door open.” Henry suggested. That was something he could do and control right now. Everything else they could deal with in the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, first of the new Sunday update schedule :D
> 
> I slipped a Parks and Rec quote in here, so if you catch it, idk bonus points? There was an FMA reference a chapter or two ago too :P
> 
> I was at my grandparents house and my grandma used the saying about buying ink in barrels and I just knew I had to use it :D
> 
> Modern art probably doesn't exist yet?? 
> 
> reviews are much appreciated!


	10. Deeper Into the Inkwell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry is absolutely doing 100% okay
> 
> I had no idea what to call that thing that they use to cross the chasm and it shows

“Sammy, I found something.” Henry called, poking the sticking-out book. Sammy walked over to look at the book as well. 

“Great job, Henry. You found a book. There’s hundreds of those in here.” Sammy snarked. Henry raised an eyebrow as he attempted to take it out and thus demonstrated that book’s refusal to move. 

“Most of the time, books can be read.” Henry snarked right back. Sammy reached over and gave the book a tug himself before pushing it back into place. A small click was heard, and both men looked back to the door, one of the light’s above it now shining bright. “So that’s how that works.”

“Of course there’s going to be a needlessly complicated way to open this door.” Sammy growled, walking around the circular room and looking for more books. Shortly after there was another click and another light turned on. Henry peeked into the other room, checking to make sure the ink sculptures hadn’t suddenly moved while they weren’t looking. They were in the same position as the last time, praising the Bendy statue. Just looking at them sent shivers down Henry’s spine. “Are you going to help or not?”

“I’ve found the third.” Henry replied, sliding the book into the bookshelf.

“Well keep looking, there’s three more to go. Why are these so hard to find?” Sammy grumbled the last part to himself. Henry wandered into the center room, where Susie’s cassette sat on the table. He had to admit he was curious what it said, but he was sure that Sammy didn’t want to hear it again. Especially since the player had originally been on the ground, like Sammy had knocked if off the table. Henry had put it back out of… well respect or something. Susie was, to an extent, dead. It felt wrong to desecrate the final recordings of her while she was still only Susie.

“Four!” Sammy called out as Henry looked up to the chandelier-

_ Henry! _

Everything was too bright, too loud, and Henry spun around trying to find who it was that had called his name. The entire room - the entire  _ world -  _ was shaking, shattering. The vaults around the room shook as if a harsh wind was blowing through the room, like the ghosts of those who died were crying out.

“Henry?!”

_ Henry! _

Something grabbed his shoulder and Henry jerked away, squeezing his eyes shut and clamping his hands over his ears as the world’s intensity grew, impossibly louder and brighter, threatening to over take his senses, bleed through into him, destroying him-

Just as quickly as it started, it ended. Henry was aware his breathing was short and erratic, but he was too busy looking around to care. The world was back to normal - or as normal as things ever got in this inky hell-hole studio.

“Henry?!” Henry groaned, squeezing his eyes shut at another loud noise, but this time he recognized it as Sammy. He opened them and looked to see him hovering just off to the side, one hand outstretched like he’d very much like to comfort Henry but had seen that it hadn’t been as helpful as he’d wanted it to be.

“Hey Sammy.” Henry rasped out, raking his hand down his face. What the Hell  _ was _ that? It had been like… Henry swallowed, not at all liking where this vein of thought was going. It had been like being inside of the ink. 

“What the Hell was that?!” Sammy shouted, picking up the dropped ax. “I’m holding onto this so you don’t drop is again and chop off your toes. Now what the Hell just happened?”

“I’m- I don’t know.” Henry slowly got to his feet - apparently he’d fallen to the ground? It wasn’t quite like a ptsd episode, or at least not like the ones he was familiar with. It had felt like there had been something more going on, something… ugh, thinking about it made his head hurt, the sounds and sights echoing through him. 

“I’m so glad we have even more things going terribly here.” Sammy said bitterly. His glare was edged with concern though. 

“Trust me, if I could control… anything, I would.” Henry sighed. “Let’s just find the other two books and move forward.” Sammy looked over Henry again before slowly nodding in agreement.

“Just don’t over stress yourself, old man.” Henry threw the nearest book at Sammy. Sammy went back to looking at the outer ring and Henry decided best to focus on the inner one.

“I found the fifth.” Henry called out as he pushed it in, pausing as he saw something out of the edge of his eye. Or, more accurately, didn’t see something. Henry moved so that he could more easily see between the books on the shelves. The ink statues of people were gone. Henry looked back to make sure Sammy hadn’t seen the lack of creepy figures. He seemed concerned with trying to find the sixth book. Good. This development probably meant some pretty bad things, but Henry didn’t want to worry Sammy if it could be avoided. Better to save the stress for another event that would undoubtedly happen in the near future.

Henry slipped back into the first room, regretting letting Sammy just take the ax back. He grabbed a book. Not the best weapon, but better than none. There were stains of ink on the stage, but then again there were stains of ink everywhere. No footprints trailed away from the stage, though of course Henry couldn’t be sure whether or not the ink people would leave a trail.

“Listen, we just need maybe five seconds of things not blowing up in our faces,” Henry whispered, turning this way and that and still not seeing any sign of a moving ink person, “So if you would just keep to yourselves, we won’t bother you and all of us will come off of this okay.”

Nothing replied, of course, but Henry stayed on edge until Sammy called out to him.

“Henry, come on, I found the sixth!” Henry cast one last look around before heading to the door. “Let’s get our wolf back.”

They entered the next room, and Henry looked down of the ledge as it descended into darkness. The call of the void told him that jumping off the ledge would be a good idea, but Henry resisted the urge. He looked up as Sammy kicked the box next to them until it went far enough that it fell down into the darkness. Neither man heard it hit the ground.

“Have I mentioned how much I hate this place?” Sammy stepped away from the edge.

“You're probably going to say it again later. Is that just a never ending darkness, or ink?” Henry wondered aloud.

“Does it matter?” Sammy looked around at their new surroundings. Henry looked around as well, eyes lingering on the hanging cages that thankfully didn’t have anything inside of them. If the rest of the studio had looked like it was fraying at the edges, this part of it was kept together with little scraps of yarn and whatever glue was left over.

“Probably not.” Henry shrugged. At least the boards beneath their feet seemed stable enough. “You know, it wasn’t until now I started to think, maybe I should be worried about how far down we are? After we save Boris, and even if we know a route to get back to the surface, how long is it going to take us?” 

“Hopefully not the rest of our life.” Sammy glared up at the ceiling. Ink poured from pipes sticking out of the walls, and Henry let one of his hands trail through the stream. If he closed his eyes and used a little imagination, he could almost believe that he was somewhere else, and this was a trikleof water from, say, a waterfall. 

Would he ever get to see real water again?

How long would bacon soup work to keep either of them going? If they died of dehydration or starvation, would they just be reborn from the ink later?

“Of course there’s another one of these.” Sammy snarled at the Bendy cutout stuck in the wall. He pointed his ax at the grinning toon’s face, tip of the ax just barely touching it. “If I wasn’t worried about bringing Evil ‘Bendy’ here, I’d cut you into some very satisfying pieces.”

“I think you’ve done a good job of intimidating the him.” Henry remarked from behind Sammy.

“You know, being here almost makes me miss my Bendy.” Sammy continued walked down the pathway. “He’s annoyed as Hell, but at least he hasn’t killed me yet. More than I can say for this place.”

“I’m sure he’s not terrible all the time.” Henry pointed out. Sammy grumbled.

“... no, he’s not  _ all  _ the time. But he definitely takes too much pleasure out of watching me suffer.” Sammy grit out, like it hurt to admit a part of him didn’t totally loath the toon. “Just… shut up, never tell him I said that. If you ever meet him. Oh wow look weird machines.”

Sammy rushed over to said machines. One looked like it was supposed to help somebody to get across the chasm while the other was an odd box. Sammy was looking over the bridge lift, so Henry walked over to the box. It had the word ‘Gent’ on it, and Henry chuckled to himself. Ah yes, Gent, the mysterious company that seemed to manufacture everything under the sun. Or at least, they did in the Bendy cartoons. It had started off as a joke, and it somehow had managed to stick in the final drafts. While the name was familiar, however, the machine itself was not. Henry looked off to one side of it, curiously rotating the dial he found there. There were four images: a mug, a clock/radio thing, a bone, and a gear. On the opposite side was a lever which, when pulled, caused the top to slide shut.

“Okay, we’re not going anywhere until we find a replacement for this.” Henry looked up and saw Sammy holding up a mostly broken gear. “I’m thinking we check back in the archive room?”

“I don’t think that’s going to be necessary if we can figure out how to work this thing.” Henry waved the musician over. “I think it’s supposed to make things? I’m not really sure what to put into it.” 

“Really?” Sammy raised an eyebrow, looking at it. “What do you  _ think  _ it needs Henry?” Henry blinked - and then could've hit himself for his moment of stupidity..

“Ink.” What every freaking thing down here needed and had. Henry shook his head. He must be more tired than he thought. “Do we just… pour some in?”

“How would I know?” Sammy shrugged.

Henry walked over to the nearest pipe gushing ink into the void. He eyed it, gauging the distance between the pipe and the machine. The ink would probably all just leak out of his hand if he tried to cup the black liquid in his hands. Still, if they wanted to save Boris, they needed to get the machine to make a gear, and they - probably - needed ink for that. Coming to a decision, Henry took off his shoe. It already had a decent amount of ink in it anyway.

The flow of the ink was a bit stronger than Henry had anticipated, and he almost dropped his shoe, but in the end he came away with a shoe full of ink. Sammy stood by the machine, one hand on the lever as Henry dumped the contents of his shoe into the top opening. The lever was pulled and the ink was poured into the rest of the machine. Both men waited in anticipation - as the ink just ran out the bottom of the machine. They waited a second longer to see if perhaps the ink would suddenly jump up and into the form a gear, but instead it just sat there in a rather small puddle. 

“Well. Guess we’re gonna die here.” Sammy remarked. Henry didn’t say anything, but he couldn’t help to to agree with Sammy a bit as he slipped his shoe back on. 

“Maybe there’s something that can help us down the hall?” He pointed down the path they hadn’t explored yet.

“With our luck, it’s a hub for the butcher gang.” Sammy glared down it. “But why not. At least being dead is doing something other than standing here.” 

“That’s the spirit,” Henry said sarcastically, leading the way. There was a single room at the end of the hall, and it was thankfully devoid of ink monsters. The space was mostly taken up by what looked like a giant ink pipe that ran from the ceiling into the ground. Without giving it too much though, Henry pulled the lever off to the side. The sound of gears grinding filled the room, and the upper part of the pipe lifted away from the bottom, revealing a bubbling pool of ink. 

“Maybe we need to use this ink specifically?” Sammy mused.

“Let’s see what this does first.” Henry walked over to the wheel, cranking it to the side. It seemed to disturb the ink puddle pool, the bubbling increasing. Sammy raised his ax and Henry stepped back as the surface became convex. An ink monster burst out of the ink - and just sat there, facing away from them. Henry eyed it curiously. “Isn’t that the kind that have the thicker ink? The ones that Susie wanted?”

“I hate those.” Sammy grumbled, raising his ax to strike it down. 

“Wait!” Henry held out a flat palm to Sammy as he edged closer to it. There, on the creature’s back, was a particularly solid piece of ink, different than the rest. Praying that the searcher wouldn’t take this chance to spin around and drag Henry into ink purgatory, Henry grabbed the ink and ripped it off. The monster made a howling-groan as it sank back into the ink. “... huh.”

“Maybe that’ll work?” Sammy suggested, nose wrinkled as he looked at the ink glob. 

“If only these thicker ink globs can used to make things, it’d definitely explain why Susie wanted them,” Henry mused, carrying the blob out of the hallway and to the machine. The lever was cranked, the machine rumbled, and out popped another ball of ink. Before the disappointment had the chance to set in, however, the ink shifted in on itself, solidifying into a gear. 

“Thank. God.” Sammy picked up the gear, looking it over and comparing it to the broken one that had been in the bridge lift before tossing said broken gear off the walkway. “Yep, it’s perfect. Let’s fix this thing and get going.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, second Sunday update in a row! i actually have one more chapter prepared, so at the very least yall can rest well knowing there will be one next week definitely too :D
> 
> Thoughts and opinions are greatly appreciated! Especially since a lot of what I'm working with is flexible. Who knows, maybe I'll use your thoughts to add more to the story :P
> 
> Should I make Sammy give the ax a name? maybe i'll write a short story...


	11. Out of the Abyss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammy get's a shirt  
> Henry is Totally Fine

Sammy fixed the mechanical bridge, but they didn’t leave right away. Henry took the chance to grab a few more ink blobs and try them out on the machine. They soon had a small pile of bones, mugs, gears, and a single radio. Sammy hummed along to the song from it as he worked.

“It’s like a mini ink machine.” Henry commented after admiring the fifth cup he’d made. It was an exact replica of the other four. He had tried seeing inf they could shatter, but like the ink monsters it would seem that too much damage made them simply lose form and become ink again. He’d also found that the wheel on the side with the images could come off, but he had nothing to put there instead so he’d put it back on shortly after the discovery. 

“I wonder…” Sammy wiped his hands off on his overalls - not that it did him much good - and joined Henry staring at the machine. He looked down at the wooden boards beneath their feet and - upon finding one with the edges breaking apart - tore off a sliver of wood, holding it out to Henry. “Draw a shirt on top of the cup.”

“What?” Henry took the wood, inspecting it over in his hands. It was no pencil or pen by any stretch of the imagination, but he supposed it wouldn’t hurt in a pinch and with a lot of ink.

“I’m sick of having no shirt. It’s cold down here.” Sammy deadpanned. “If there is even the slightest chance I can get something good to happen to me, it is here and now.”

“Alright.” At least there was no lack of ink to use. So Henry drew. It was just a shirt, a plain-looking button up, but even just that simple drawing made Henry feel more relaxed. How long had it been since he’d last drawn anything? Last doodled? He’d mostly slept and played cards during his time in the bunker. It was only now, sketching it buttons and sleeves, that Henry realized just how much he’d missed this.

“Are you done yet?” Sammy leaned over, trying to get a view of the drawing. He’d already put another thing of ink in the machine.

“It’d probably be a bit better if there wasn’t an image behind it,” Henry remarked, pulling away from the wheel to get a bit of a better view of his work, “But I made it work.”

“Well, let’s see if this works.” Sammy pulled the lever, the the ink spat out the bottom, collaguating and shifting until it was a exactly when Henry had drawn - a shirt, a bit sketchy looking on its edges, spread out like someone had been admiring it or planning out an outfit.

“So far so good,” Henry mumbled as both men kneeled down. It was a little bit of a lighter off-yellow color than everything else here, but Henry supposed that a nice and clean white shirt really was too much to ask for. Sammy poked it, and the fabric didn’t immediately dissolve into ink. Sammy grabbed it, picking it up and turning it around, unbuttoning the shirt. Henry had been worried that perhaps it would come out 2D, like a piece of paper shaped and colored to look like a shirt. Thankfully, though, it seemed that he had managed to successfully make a dress shirt. 

“I’m going to go put this on.” Sammy jerked a thumb back towards the hallway. 

“Try not to fall into the vat of ink.” Henry called after him and Sammy, without turning around, held up his middle finger clear for the artist to see. There were worse people to be stuck down here with than Sammy. 

Alone and with nothing else to do, Henry turned to the machine again, picking up his make-shift writing utensil and spinning the wheel to the bone. Henry stared at it, drawing stick a millimeter from touching the surface. What if it didn’t work? Or came out the size of a bone? Then again, what was really the risk of any of that? He just needed something to help him calm down, like he was now. Even during the war, he’d kept a dirty notebook with sketches on him. 

Grabbing one of the remaining ink globs, Henry cranked the machine again and sighed in relief as the rightly-sized, bone-themed pen came out. He picked it up and admired it, clicking the end of it and drawing a few little scribbles on his arm - a part without ink already - and smiled as it worked. Perhaps, after seeing just what this mini ink machine could do, Henry could understand just a little bit of what Joey had been thinking. This was miraculous. To make drawings come to life, to be a reality. 

“Finally!” Sammy cheered, standing in the entrance to the hall, arms stretched above him. “Well, how do you think I look?”

“I miss farm-hand Sammy who looks like he doesn’t know how to read.” Henry teased. “Now you look like the guy who actually runs the ranch.”

“Haha, very funny,” Sammy crossed his arms, “I haven’t worked on a farm in ages.”

“Wait, you really did?” What was this, new information on his former coworker? Sammy shrugged, trying to brush it off as nothing. 

“Well, yeah, my family owned one. My older brother inherited it, which was fine with me. I didn’t really like all of the dirt and work and hot sun. Maybe I would’ve stayed around if I knew I’d still be covered in muck at my current job. Anyway, are we going to get a move on or not?”

“After you,” Henry gestured to the very rickety looking lift. Even with it fixed, Henry still wasn’t entirely sure that the line wouldn’t just snap as they were going across. Or maybe something would leap out of the ink below, like a giant ink kraken, and eat them alive.  

“Should we go one at a time?” Sammy suggested, poking the ride with his foot. 

“Scared?” Henry teased, raising an eyebrow. 

“You can’t tell me you seriously think this thing is stable?!” Sammy exclaimed. 

“No, I don’t. But next time I suggest we split up, I don’t want you to give me any crap over it.” Sammy squawked in protest and to defend himself, but Henry just gently nudged the other to get into the death trap. Sammy was able to cross with seemingly no trouble, and Henry kept an eye on the cog they’d replace. The strain of being a part of the machine didn’t seem to be enough to make it splatter back into ink… Henry hoped something like that wouldn’t happen to Sammy’s new shirt, though to be honest it would be more than a bit funny.

“... how do we get it back over here?” Henry called across the chasm. Sammy glared at the lift. 

“Isn’t there, I don’t know, a button on your side that you can press?” Sammy called back, inspecting the machine bridge from his end.

“Can’t you just, come back over?” Henry mumbled to the machine, knocking on his end- and froze as the sound of the carriage moving back across. Henry looked across, wide eyes meeting Sammy’s large and confused ones. Hesitantly, Henry patted the machine. Maybe he’d accidentally hit a button? Or it automatically went back after a certain amount of time? Either way, a softly whispered thank you never hurt anyone.

The ride across for Henry, of course, was nerve wracking. Specifically after the lift paused in the middle of the abyss. Henry reached up, fingers brushing the wire that held up the carriage. He’d probably have to jump to fully grab it, and he wasn’t really sure he had had the arm strength to pull himself the rest of the way. Henry looked down at the ink, shivers running down his spine as he stared down.

_ …… _

_ …… _

_...h.. _

_ …... _

_ …… _

Henry reeled back from the ledge as the carriage jostled, moving again. He blinked down into the abyss. Maybe he was more tired than he thought. He had just recently survived a falling elevator. That didn’t typically leave people ready to take on the day. When he reached the other side, he more or less threw himself off the carriage. It wasn’t really ‘solid’ ground, but it felt safer than the death trap carriage.

“I feel like you deserved that.” Sammy looked down from his place standing above Henry. Henry glared up at him. 

“I’m never going to feel bad for you ever again.” Henry promised.

“But for real, are you okay?” Sammy actually sounded concerned.

“Sammy, I don’t know about you, but I am just about done being in this room. I’m fine, let’s keep going.” Sammy’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t say anything to argue with Henry. Henry considered them lucky that there weren't any branching paths over here, just a single door to go through.

The long hallway before them looked like it had been hastily patched together, boards cockeyed on the walls. Sammy took the lead, eyes darting between the walls and looking out for the slightest sign of movement. Henry clenched his hands into fists. Surely he could do some damage with just a punch or t-

“AUGH!”

The world flashed as the intensity around him dialed up to eleven. Sounds that didn’t exist pounded at his ears, at his head, worming their way inside of him.

_ SAVE US _

_ FREE US _

_ JOIN US _

Henry’s breathing picked up as hands wormed through the gaps of the wood, inky arms that blocked the both forward and desperately reached for him. 

_ Stay back! _

Henry’s jaw locked up, teeth pressed painfully together as he shouted the thought, tried to tell them to get away  _ get away getawayfromme- _

_ COME FORWARD _

_ m _

_ HENRY, WHY HA- _

_ i _

_ staybackstaybackSTAYBACK _

_ n _

_ TRUST US _

_ e _

_ saVE US NOW _

“HENRY YOU OLD MAN IF YOU DARE HAVE A PSYCHOTIC BREAK ON ME NOW I’LL THROW YOU INTO THE INK MYSELF I PROMISE!”

A hand, surprisingly flesh-like, slapped Henry’s cheek with enough force to send Henry’s face to the side snapping to the side. He did his best to banish the memory of Bendy snapping his neck and breathed in a deep breath, - how long had it been since he’d breathed?? - lightly touching his cheek. Ouch. 

“S… sorry Sammy. I don’t know what came over me.” Henry blinked, looking at the walls that were now devoid of reaching inky hands.

“We’re taking a break.” Sammy stated.

“No!” Henry climbed back to his feet. “No. Let’s, let’s at least get somewhere more stable.”

“I’m worried about getting  _ your  _ stability.” Sammy stood in the middle of the hallway, unbudging. 

“ _ Sammy,”  _ Henry rubbed his face, trying to get the echoing sounds out of his head, “We came this far, let’s just keep moving forward and then you can, I don’t know, knock me out later.” Sammy glared at Henry, eyes searching the animator’s face before he gave a defeated sigh.

“Fine.  _ Fine.  _ But just know I’m not happy about this at all.” They exited the hallway and found themselves before another abyss, stairs leading up and farther up. 

_ “I see you there, errand boys,”   _ Sammy’s hands clenched into fists as he stared upwards. Henry looked up, but didn’t see anything.  _ “Your angel always watches. Now, what is it that keeps the two of you going? Does the hunt thrill you? Do you thirst for your freedom, praying every step downwards will miraculously bring you closer to the surface? Or, perhaps… you’re just looking for a friendly little wolf… I’d hurry, if I were you, Boris is struggling to stay in one piece.” _

“Fuck you,” Sammy muttered up at her, at Alice. One of his hands was pressed against his pocket where the piece of 'Susie' was. “C’mon Henry, let’s go get Boris and Susie back.”

They were definitely due for a rest soon. It was only now that Henry really realized that Sammy probably hadn’t gotten the chance to really sit down and think about Alice-Susie trying to kill them in the elevator. Or, well, kill Henry. If Sammy hadn’t died, Henry didn’t doubt that he’d be with Boris, being torn apart by Susie as Henry ran through the studio alone like a chicken with his head cut off. Heck, just being in this place put both of them the threshold of panic attacks and stressing themselves to death.

“What do you think these chains are for?” Henry tried to distract both of them. Sammy glanced at them as they both ascended the rickety wooden excuse for stairs. 

“Who gives a shit?” Sammy growled. Henry bumped him with his shoulder. 

“Come on, aren’t you just a little bit curious?” Henry looked downwards to the extending black below. 

“No.”

The rest of the ascent was done in quiet. When they finally reached the top and entered the a room that actually for once looked like it room, it was with incredible relief that it looked like a nice little safe haven. Couches, a Miracle Station, and of course what part of this place with be complete without a Bendy statue. 

“Henry,” Sammy hissed, grabbing Henry’s arm and pointing to the balcony above the door farther into the room. An inky person, like the ones who had stood on the stage, stood there, desperately looking around. They looked so lost and sad. Henry’s heart seized up. 

_ “When do we go home? I just want to go home. When do we go Home? When do we go home…” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sunday update drie!  
> Thank you to everybody who's been commenting, each one absolutely makes my day. The next chapter is going to be a real good one, i promise. I won't spoil anything really, but have i mentioned how much i love writing dreams? since everything can mean anything or nothing?


	12. Dreaming of Ink Sheep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammy and Henry take a break so that they don't have a psychotic break down the road

“... they’re alive.” Sammy whispered, staring at the balcony even after the inky figure had walked off, making sobbing sounds. Henry nodded. It was one thing seeing the ink people be in one place one moment and gone the next, and a completely different thing to see one moving around. And it had  _ talked,  _ it was  _ sentient,  _ unlike so many other monsters down here. It hadn’t seemed capricous like Susie or inky Sammy had. It was just… sad. 

“I feel like we should stop here for now.” Henry suggested. It looked like a comfortable enough room. 

“Yeah.” Sammy looked at one of the couches before he started to push it. “Henry, help me move this in front of that other door. I don’t want ink man stabbing us when we’re not expecting it.”

“Sure.” Together they pushed the couch in front of the door and cleared off the second couch, which had a candle, a gramophone, and a teapot with a matching cup. Unsurprisingly, the teapot just held ink in it, though Henry would’ve been equally unsurprised if the contents were bacon soup. Together they searched the rest of the room for anything else they could use and ended up pushing an odd and tall machine to block the entrance. Did it mean they couldn’t escape if something started to, say, jump down from the balcony? Yes. But it still made them seem safer and at this point even if they died in their sleep at least they had slept at all.

“I’ll take the couch blocking the door.” Sammy volunteered. “I’ll have the ax with me, so if something manages to come through I can just whack them until they stay down.”

“Fine by me,” Henry hummed as he opened a box. “You in the mood for some dinner?”

“Bacon soup?” Sammy asked, sitting down with his back against a couch’s side. 

“Bacon soup.” Henry confirmed, grabbing Sammy’s ax and popping open the top. “But hey, a special treat this time: I’m going to try and heat it up over the candle.”

“Wow. Amazing.” Sammy’s head lolled to the side. “When we get out of here, I’m never having soup ever again. It doesn’t matter what kind of soup, I’m just swearing off it all forever.” Sammy vowed. 

Henry placed the can over the flame and its container, making sure to leave a space for the candle to breath. He looked over to Sammy, who had taken out the ink glob Susie from his pocket, looking at her in his hand. 

“Has she done anything since you found her?” Henry scooted close to Sammy, looking at ‘Susie’.

“No, nothing seems to cause much reaction from it.” Sammy sighed. “I mean, I know she can feel emotion, but it’s all muddled.” Henry thought back to Grant, the rush of emotions when touching what was left of him. But nothing like that had happened when he had touched ‘Susie’.

“How do you know that?”

“Uh, well,” Sammy didn’t meet Henry’s eyes, “It doesn’t really matter.” Henry raised an eyebrow, clearly saying that he thought differently, but Sammy didn’t offer up the information. Maybe Henry would wait until after they both got a bit more rest before interrogating Sammy on this. 

“Soup’s up.” Henry said after a while of silence. They two took turns slurping down the greasy contents, Henry’s tie used to keep their hands from burning on the hot metal. Surprisingly enough, the tie itself held up fine. If Henry ever got out of here, at least he knew where to buy high-quality ties from. 

“... what if it’s not enough?” Sammy stared at the soup can in his hands. His face looked pained as he sloshed the contents around. 

“It’ll be enough to feed us for the ‘night’.” Henry reassured with a shrug.

“Not the soup. ‘Susie’. What if it’s not enough of ‘Susie’ to help her? What if it’s just a bad part of Susie and makes her even worse?” Sammy looked over at ‘Susie’. He had put her by the gramophone for now, and unsurprisingly she hadn’t moved since. 

“All we can do down here is hope.” Henry shrugged, knowing it was much help. But what could he say? This place was cursed, it was ink hell with ink purgatory that you could visit with a quick snap of a neck, “You’re doing all you can to save her, and we just have to pray it’ll be enough.”

“Like praying is going to be of any help.” Sammy murmured before taking a swig of bacon soup and passing the can to Henry. “You can have the rest. I’m going to sleep.”

“See you in the 'morning',” Henry downed the rest of the soup. At least it was better warm than it was cold. For being thirty years old, it tasted exactly the same (Henry would almost even dare to say better) than it had when Joey had first ordered the stuff. He sat up for a while longer than Sammy, pulling out his pen at one point and doodling. Just a simple on model Bendy and Alice on the floor boards. As they should be. As Sammy claimed he had seen them. 

“Good night ‘Susie’.” Henry whispered, knowing that it probably couldn’t hear him, or if it could it wouldn’t know what he was saying. The couch was at least comfier than the wood in front of the Bendy statue had been. Still, even with an actual cushion beneath him, it took him a while to fall asleep. Was that creaking something trying to get past one of their blockades? Was that distant sound the weeping Ink Person coming back? Was that faint howling Boris, crying out for help as they slept? Eventually, though, even with faint paranoia running through his veins, the exhaustion that had been at the back of Henry’s mind came out of its place and consumed the rest of him, dragging him down and into the darkness that was sleep.

oOo

“You left us… for death?”

Henry looked down at Bendy, was sitting in his lap, and then at the battlefield around them. The bullets seemed to be staying clear of where they were, and Henry was thankful for that. Being shot would probably be a bit annoying. 

“Not voluntarily.” Henry sighed, rubbing the spot between the demon’s two ‘horns’. “I was drafted. I had to go. Joey wasn’t too excited about that.”

“You never came back.” Bendy sounded sad, curling closer to Henry.

“No, I didn’t.” Henry agreed. What was there to argue? “I wasn’t the Henry that had created you anymore. Going back, it would’ve felt like ignoring what had happened. What I had seen.” Henry looked off to the side, where another him stood like a statue, a single bullet hole in his side. As he looked at the statue Henry, letters began to rain down on his from the heavens, each one slowly getting soaked red with blood the farther down they got. 

“I can’t forgive you.” Bendy turned around to look at Henry, and Henry gave the demon a sad smile.

“That’s your choice. We’ve both made our own choices.” Bendy climbed off of Henry’s lap, looking the man over in what could almost be described as a suspicious manner.

“You were the Creator.”

“Why ‘were’?” Henry asked, standing up. A bullet hit the side of his head with an inky splat. Henry reached up and brushed the ink now oozing down his face. He flicked it off, and the droplets formed into butterflies that flew off and away from the war. It had taken Henry so long to leave the war behind, even after it was over. Bendy watched the insects fly off into the distance before turning back to Henry. 

The world around them slowed, getting darker and inkier, spider-webbing black spilling out from Bendy’s feet. 

“You’re going to leave us again, aren’t you?” Bendy turned away from Henry.

“Yes,”

Ink crawled up Bendy, distorting his form, making the demon taller, more skeletal in appearance. He spun back around to face Henry, extending a clawed and ungloved hand like he’d very much love to rip the animator’s face off. The unsettling grin stared at Henry with a predatory air to it. Henry set his palm against ‘Bendy’s’.

“But I’ll come back for you.”

A bullet ran through ‘Bendy’s’ head and the demon melted down, ink sinking into the ground. All that was left of him was a single finger left in Henry’s hand. Henry lifted it to his face curiously, watching as it morphed into a pen, the one he had created. He blinked and where Bendy had been standing was the Ink Person, weeping, head down. 

“When do we go home? When do we go home?” 

The Ink Person looked up, and the ink spilled off of its face to reveal a deathly tired Sammy, sobbing black-ink tears.

“When do we go home, Henry?”

Henry opened his mouth, not entirely sure what to tell the composer, and as he sucked in a breath his eyes fluttered open. 

Awake. He was wake.

Henry groaned, wiping his hands down his face as his brain proceeded to scrambled up the dream he’d had, muddling it up as his brain labeled it as something unimportant. Sleep was good, he knew that, but was it really worth it to go through the aches and that came with waking up? Henry twisted around, trying to see Sammy, and fell off the couch. 

“Off to a great start.” Henry grumbled as he sat up. Sammy was still asleep, chest moving up and down comfortingly. There wasn’t really a way to tell time down here, but it certainly didn’t feel like Henry had been asleep for very long. It didn’t feel like Henry would be able to get back to sleep either. He was already too awake. 

He scooted over to the gramophone, picking up ‘Susie’. She still didn’t move, didn’t react, didn’t send out any sort of feeling to Henry. Just a cold lump of ink that was supposedly a piece of a woman Henry had once known. It was the first time Henry had really gotten to observe her, hold her and look at her. She wasn’t nearly as volatile as Grant had seemed to be, she wasn’t bubbling and bursting before putting herself back together again.

“Hey there,” Henry’s thumb gently brushed the side of the lump in a way he hoped was comforting. “You must’ve been so lost in there. In the ink. Don’t worry, Sammy and I are going to make you whole again. Or we’ll die. But if we do, we’ll just try again. We have to.” Because really, what else was there even to do down here? Even if it was a part of Susie that would only make her worse, he couldn’t just leave her apart like this. With Grant, Henry didn’t know where the rest of him was, but he was willing to bet much of the man was still scattered in the ink. Susie, though, Susie was right there taunting them. 

She didn’t respond to his words. He couldn’t decide whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. 

“Does it hurt, being like this?” Henry mumbled, blinking curiously at her. His head felt… thick. Clouded. He probably was still a bit groggy from sleep. “Hard to exist as something other than ink when you’re just roughly patched together.” His fingers ran across the top of her, and at his touch it flattened out a bit. He cocked his head curiously to the side, a bit more mist running through his mind as he focused on ‘Susie’. Some part of him seemed to realize that something was up, but so much more of him was whispering to roll with it, to wait and see what was going on. “If I could just… slip the parts a bit more together…”

He smoothed out the edges of her, defining her into more of a circular shape. Was he even guiding his hands? They felt almost detached from him as he carved out the center, stretching the blob that before could fit in hands until it was the size of a dinner plate. He rounded the edges and the inside, and as he did ink caught on his fingertips and came off as something took shape beneath his hand, something stable within the ink. Stable and solid. 

The haze in Henry’s heard lifted all at once, and he drew in a deep breath. It felt like he’d just emerged from death, come up after being pushed far beneath water. The world around him had grown so blurry and he hadn’t even realize it. ‘Susie’, however, had never lost her clarity. And he could still see her clearly. See what he’d made her into. What she’d become. 

In his shock, in his fear, Henry let the halo clatter to the ground with a gasp.

oOo

Sammy held his hands over his mouth to keep the air in his lungs, to physically stop himself from breathing.

He was underwater, after all. To take a breath would be death. 

Fish swam around him in the water, fish made up of smaller fish. Most of them were patchy, missing parts of their school. 

There was only one fish that was complete, and it swam in a wide circle around Sammy. Whenever any of the other fish got too close, Complete Fish would chase them off before it continued its patrol. Only one fish managed to make it past the guardian. This fish was small, only a handful of fish swimming together attempting to form a bigger one. 

_ Hello. _

Sammy thought, dropping one of his hands from his mouth and reaching out to Small Fish. Small Fish gently nudged at Sammy’s hand, cuddling up in it. The closer Small Fish cuddled, the more Sammy’s hand and arm began to fall apart, slowly breaking down into more little fish. Small Fish wiggled their form into Sammy’s fish, buried within himself. Sammy frowned at that, shaking his arm to try and get the fish out, but it stayed in there. He took his other hand off his mouth and reached into his arm, pulling the fish out. It squirmed in his grasp, none too pleased and being held, but Sammy’s kept it back until his arm condensed again.

When he finally let it go Small Fish swam to his hand again, but Sammy batted them away. After a few more times being pushed back, Small Fish swam up to Sammy’s head, resting there. Sammy waited for his head to start fading away into fish, but the sensation never came. Huh. They were both safe like that. 

There was movement in the water, and Sammy spun around to look at it. Complete Fish was trying to fight off too many of the other fish. He was being torn apart. 

“HEY!” Sammy yelled. Huh. Apparently he  _ could  _ breath water. He kicked through the water, swimming to defend Complete Fish. His pulled his arm back, and when he chopped it down at one of the attacking fish, the fish that made up his arm had reformed into an ax-like shape. It didn’t take long to scare away the rest of the attacking fish, and Sammy focused his attention on Complete Fish, making sure he was okay. As he looked over the fish-made-of-fish, he didn’t noticed the octopus leg reaching up and snaking around his leg until he was pulled down into the dark waters beneath him, Complete Fish following him down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright, here's the deal my friendos, I'm leaving for italy/rome/cruise trip thing in two days. I don't have any chapters saved up, and getting to the internet is going to be really tough. What i'm saying it, this thing is going to go on a short hiatus. The cruise goes from the 17-30 so hopefully the week i get back i'll be able to bust out a chapter to kick off august's first sunday. i apologize in advance, but even what i do have written so far needs some tweaking as new ideas come to me so this is just the way its gonna have to be :P
> 
> also i still love writing dream scenes man. does it mean somethign? does it mean nothing? who knows!


	13. Wearing A New Look

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys wake up
> 
> 'Susie' is a halo now
> 
> Henry thinks about Sammy

Sammy woke up coughing, trying to get rid of water and ink and darkness that he could remember filling his lungs. He looked around, desperate to save himself from the suction-cup covered arms, looking for the fish,  _ the fish,  _ but found that he was now surrounded by air. Right. He was in the studio. Henry and he and decided to rest up. 

“Sammy,” Henry, situated next to the gramophone, looked at Sammy with one of the guiltiest expressions he’d ever seen. Which was really saying something, considering he had a younger brother.

“God, Henry, what did you do?” It was too early for this, Sammy quickly decided, as he got off the couch and walked over to Henry.

“I… don’t know?” Henry picked something off of the floor, holding it out to Sammy like it was a live snake. Sammy took it, turning it over in his hands. It was a simple, plain looking hoop, a pale golden in color with a dull shine to it. In fact, if Sammy didn’t know better, he’d almost say it was glowing slightly. 

“What is this? Where’d you find it?” Sammy twirled it on one of his fingers.

“... it’s, uh, ‘Susie’.”

“IT’S  _ WHAT?!”  _ Sammy nearly dropped the hoop and his head snapped to the side (Henry flinched at that) to see the gramophone. Sure enough, the ‘Susie’ blob wasn’t where he had left it. She wasn’t there at all. “ _ What  _ did you  _ do?!” _

“I don’t know!” Henry threw his hands up into the air. “I woke up, and I wasn’t really thinking about what I was doing and then I just sort of made her into a halo!”

“A… halo.” Sammy looked at the hoop - the halo -  _ ‘Susie’  _ \- again. Like this, she was a lot nicer to look at. “You made her into a halo. Accidently.”

“... yes?” Henry replied hesitantly, looking ready to defend himself if this got physical. Sammy gave a long-suffering sigh, running his hand down his face. He really wanted to just go off on the animator, but he also knew it would do no good. Not to mention, something about this just made… sense, in an odd way. When he’d come out of the ink, ‘Susie’ had been floating above her head. Maybe she was supposed to be a halo to begin with? Still, how would Henry have known what to make her into? More importantly, how had he just… made her into something? Was the ink really that easily malleable?

Maybe she was better like this. A halo, she was a halo now. 

“If this goes… wrong, just grab the ax and kill me. I’ll try not to stay dead too long.” Sammy said as he drew in a deep breath, ducking his head slightly and lifting the halo.

“Sammy, what are you doing?” Henry scooted closer, eyes full of worry, but Sammy didn’t let him distract him.

‘Susie’ essentially snapped back into place. The second she was relatively close to where Sammy had first found her, he felt the odd sensation of another’s emotions invading him, filling into his lungs, vague worry clenching his heart. Sammy’s hands dropped, and the halo stayed floating above his head.

“What the hell.” Sammy heard Henry whisper, but he was more focused on the Other that had invaded him.

“... ‘Susie?” Sammy asked hesitantly. Before she hadn’t reacted too much, but maybe now…? A soothing vein of recognition ran through Sammy, slowing his slightly-racing heart a bit. He quickly took the halo off again, a small sigh of relief as he emotions were put completely under his own control again.  He patted the side of the halo in what he hoped was a comforting manner. “It’s okay, we’re going to put you back together again.”

“What was that?!” Henry demanded, looked between ‘Susie’ and Sammy sharply. 

“Look, it didn’t do any damage, okay? And she’d not, like, stuck a part of me. What matters is I got her out of the ink and we’re still separated.” Sammy quickly replied, hoping that Henry didn’t decide to do anything drastic.

“Wait, you’ve done that before? With her floating above your head like that? Did she say anything?” Henry was a mix of curious and upset, it seemed, but Sammy could live with that.

“She was above my head when I got out of the fish bowl/ink purgatory hellscape. She came off though, it’s  _ fine.  _ And no, like I said last ‘night’, she can’t talk. She’s just… vague emotions. I think she can hear now though, so I guess that’s improvement.” Sammy crossed his arms, as if daring Henry to just try and do something to either him or ‘Susie’. Henry looked at them, sighed, and rubbed his hand down his face.

“Yep. Okay. That’s… that’s fine. Like you said, it doesn’t seem to have any lasting consequences. If could just… avoid doing that though, I think I’d feel a whole lot better.” Which was fine by Sammy. He hadn’t been planning on keeping her connected to him for longer than he ever had to. 

“Are we going to get going?” Sammy asked, nodding to the door that was still blocked by the couch. He glanced up at the balcony too, but as far as he knew no other Ink People had appeared up there, or if they had it had been while the both of them had been asleep. Considering both men were still alive and well, they hadn’t killed them, so all in all everything was pretty okay. 

“Yeah. Yeah we probably should.” Sammy frowned at Henry. The man seemed almost more tired than when he’d woken up. Maybe changing ‘Susie’ into a halo had taken some effort out of the man? Sammy still wasn’t sure how much he bought the whole ‘oops I accidently fixed her up a bit’ thing, but what choice did he really have? Down here, all choices seemed extremely limited.

“Let’s get this show on the road.” The two men pulled the couch away from the door, scavenging around the room one last time in case there was anything useful (there wasn’t). Sammy managed to get ‘Susie’ fit around his head and wear her like a necklace. He already missed the convenience of just plopping the ball of ink into his pocket. 

Henry put his hand on the doorknob and waited for Sammy nod, ax ready to cut down any ink monster they may face, before swinging the door open. Henry sucked in sharply through his teeth, perhaps an attempt not to shout or scream at what they saw. Sammy felt sick at the sight. So many Ink People, just standing there, staring at them with yellow eyes. They didn’t rush at them, didn’t attack, just stood there and stared. Sammy almost wished they were attacking. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel so sick, so sad, staring at them. 

Henry braved stepping through the doorway first, and it would only be later that Sammy would feel slightly guilty over that. He was the one with the weapon. He should’ve gone first. But it didn’t truly matter, as the ink people still didn’t attack, didn’t even speak as Henry stepped closer to them. 

“Hello?” Henry’s voice was soft, unsure, wavering slightly as he brought up his hand in a small wave. They didn’t respond, just continued to stare at Henry. 

“Not much for conversation.” Sammy mumbled as he stepped into the room too, freezing as the eyes all stared at him. It was odd that he could tell that, considering there weren’t any pupils in the yellow lights, but he could just  _ feel  _ them there, as if the ink People were attempting to stare into his soul. They were doing a good job at it too. Sammy stepped around the ink spilling from the ceiling in the middle of the room, droplets hitting him and making him shiver. A part of him sighed at the thought that his new shirt was already getting ink stains. 

They didn’t move at all as Henry and Sammy maneuvered their ways through the ink-dripping masses. The usual  _ HE WILL SET US FREE  _ and  _ IT’S TIME TO BELIEVE  _ were painted on the walls, and that answered one question that Sammy had stopped asking a while ago. Sammy turned around to see Henry staring at a cage in the room. There was nothing inside this one as well, but it was unsettling nonetheless. Had the Ink People been inside of it at one point? Did there used to be ones in the room with the giant chasm? Did Sammy even really want to know?

“There’s so many of them.” Henry whispered when Sammy was standing next to him again. Sammy nodded, rubbing the side of ‘Susie’ with his thumb again. They would be lucky to save Susie, maybe they’d be able to backtrack and save Norman too. But this many people? How would they even survive the real world if they managed to get them out of here? 

There was a soft sobbing sound, and Sammy turned to see one of the Ink People huddled in a corner by himself, hidden between boxes with only a candle for company. The Ink Person was curled up, the source of the sobs, and Sammy was reminded of the one they had seen last night, begging to know when they could go home. 

“Do you think they’re the other workers?” Sammy asked Henry as they finally made their way to the very back of the room. 

“I don’t know who else they would be.” Henry sighed. Not like they could even tell who they had used to be. He was inspecting the vent. It was big enough for them to crawl through, but there was also decently dark. Henry glanced back at Sammy, eyes narrowed in thought. “Why don’t you go first?”

“Why me? I went first on the lift!” Sammy demanded, voice raising for a moment before he lowered it again. He didn’t want to test his luck with the Ink People and what might just set them off. Unfortunately, that seemed to be all they needed. 

The one weeping in the corner, closest to them, looked up as their sobs tapered off.

“Pr-Prophet? Is that you?”

“N… no?” Sammy replied, taking a step a bit farther from the ink man. Next to him, Henry had visibly stiffened at the word ‘Prophet’. Bad church experiences, perhaps?

“Prophet, where have you been?” The Ink Person sounded close to tears still, even as it stood up on shaking legs, an arm reaching out to Sammy. “Have you forsaken us?”

“Get in the vent, Sammy.” Henry whispered as he positioned himself between Sammy and the ink man. This time Sammy didn’t argue, climbing into the decently wide vent. He glanced over his shoulder to see Henry scurrying in after him with the wail ‘Prophet!’ behind him. 

“Prophet?”

“Has the Prophet returned?”

“Our Prophet…?”

More Ink People walked over to the vent, staring through it at the them, and Sammy started desperately crawling faster forward. He could now see why Henry had wanted him to go first. ‘Susie’ did, in fact, glow, casting a pleasing and comforting light around Sammy.

“They’re not entering the vent.” Henry patted Sammy’s ankle.

“I hope we don’t get lost and starve in here.” Sammy grunted in reply. 

“If we died of starvation and came back, would we still be hungry?” Sammy paused his crawling. 

“Henry I hate you so much right now.” Sammy resumed his crawling with Henry’s chuckles echoing around him. “Alright, there’s a room right across, I don’t know if you can see it. Do you want to try kicking the grate off o- OH GOD WHY?!?”

Sammy scrambled backwards, smashing into what he could only assume was Henry’s face, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was not getting any closer than he already was to the Ink Demon staring through the grate he had just been talking about. It moved so that its grin was clear to see. Too wide, too feral looking. Fear, instinctual fear of that creature that should not exist. At least Bendy was to some degree predictable. This Ink Demon was, quite literally, another beast entirely.

He didn’t realize he had been holding his breath until he breathed a sigh of relief, the ink demon stepping away from the grate and out of view. Ink was still pouring over the opening, but Sammy could live with that.

“... so we’re going to look for another opening?”

“Yes, Henry, we’re looking for another opening.”

oOo

“... what are we going to do, Joey?”

Henry sighed, leaning against a leg of the big table Joey was working on. Books were spread everywhere still, and at some point Joey had gotten a goat for a spell that Henry had once again turned down, resulting in that now existing in the room along with the chicken. It was only thanks to a quickly-fashioned muzzle that the goat hadn’t started to devour the dark texts that littered the room.

“We’re going to bring Sammy back, of course! And fix his ink problem while we’re at it.” Joey replied, flipping through a book and stopping at a page, setting it aside still open and grabbing a new one.

“But how? And what are we going to do with the other Sammy?” He was still locked in a closet, and Bendy refused to go near it. Alice hadn’t stated any refusal to be near the ink-covered man, but she noticeably hadn’t gone near it. Boris seemed to be the only even remotely close to unbothered with man that was not their Sammy.

“You worry too much Henry. None of this has gone too far wrong.” Joey. Always so positive he could make things work. Henry sighed again, getting back to his feet. He wasn’t so sure that this could all be fixed with just a little bit of black magic. Ink Sammy was crazy. And their Sammy was in whatever crazy world that guy came from. How could Henry not be worried about him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's kinda late, but hey! I updated!  
> My trip was really great, and if anybody is interested I can talk about it but i kinda doubt anyone is :P   
> Time to start pounding away at chapters again, promise I'll do myself to get one for next sunday!   
> Reviews and questions/thoughts/theories are always appreciated! (and art ^-^)


	14. The Amusement Park

“I should give you a name.” Henry carried the chicken in his arms. She clucked an answer. “Sorry, I only speak English.” It was probably a good idea to get her out of there before Joey started to look up uses for her. God - or whatever powers that be - forbid, Joey start to wonder if he can actually make the chicken talk.

“Oh, Henry! I was just looking for you!” Henry looked up as Alice rounded the corner, engulfing him in a hug. 

“Everything okay?” Henry asked, gently ruffling her hair, an act that was made a bit harder than one might think what with her halo and horns.

“Yeah, just so good to see people who care.” She smiled. Henry quirked up an eyebrow.

“Okay, cough it up, what’s going on? This is the first I’ve seen of you all day.” Sure, it was a big studio, and sure Henry hadn’t exactly been spending his time out in the open, but Alice always seemed to run in him at one point or another over the day. 

“Nothing’s going on, everything’s fine.” Alice replied almost huffily, and Henry squinted. There were slightly-gray streaks running down her face that started at her eyes.

“Alice, were you… crying? Earlier?”

“... maybe.” Alice scrubbed her cheeks. “Don’t tell Bendy. He’ll never let me live it down.” Well that didn’t sound true. Sure Bendy could be an ass at times, but the demon was deeper than met the eye. Thank God for that, considering he was kind of in charge. Henry considered her. Toons were odd, since they weren’t really children, and you couldn’t treat them like ones, but at the same point they weren’t super mature. Eventually Henry leaned against a wall and sank down until he was sitting. Alice looking at him, curiously, and Henry patted the spot next to him. The angel sat, and after a second she leaned against him.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, quiet and praying no other worker ended up down this hall. “It wasn’t Bendy, and you wouldn’t get worked up over something he did anyway.”

“It’s Sammy.” Alice admitted. 

“Joey’s gonna fix him, don’t worry about it.” Henry comforted.

“I know, but how much longer will it be! And that last attempt just made him worse!” And yeah Alice had a point there.

“Well, there’s actually a pretty big reason for that.” Henry scratched the back of his head. Alice looked up at him curiously. “That’s not really… our Sammy? Joey was looking back through the spell and noticed he got a few runes mixed up.”

“Then- then where’s is  _ our  _ Sammy?” Alice asked, a new look in her eyes that was somewhere between worried and relieved.

“Joey’s not sure.” Henry admitted. 

“Well Joey needs to start smarting-up about a lot of things.” Alice remarked and Henry chuckled. 

“Why don’t we both get a drink?” He offered. “It’s been a really weird last little bit.”

“It’s the middle of the day, Henry.” ALice pointed out before seemed to think about it for another moment. “... but I do suppose I could do with a little topping off on my ink levels. I’ll take you up on that offer.”

The chicken bocked.

“Sorry, you don’t get any.”

oOo

Henry basically fell out of the air duct.

“I. will wade through ink. I. will stand being made  _ out  _ of ink. I will even stand fighting off monsters made of ink. But I am no going to go crawling through vents again.” Sammy spat, stretching out his arms and legs. Henry joined him in doing so, and couldn’t help to agree. It left him feeling sore, using muscles he hadn’t used since the war and had had been left to deteriorate. In his defense, he had expected the rest of his life not to involve wading being a Studio that came from a Hell dimension.

“I promise, if we can avoid it, we will.” Henry said, making no promises. One way or another he was getting to Boris and saving as much of this wretched place as he could. And if that meant crawling through more vents, he’d do it again. 

“... do you think they could feel that, back there?” Sammy asked, voice suddenly much quieter. Henry wasn’t sure if was only just picking up on this, or if Sammy had always had this habit and Henry just forgot, but the man sure tended to shift through emotions suddenly and with little warning, being upset and angry one second and then solemn and sad the next. There was no question to who ‘they’ were, at least. If Henry strained his ears, he could still hear the *thump*, *thump*, *thump*, as the Ink Person rammed their head into the wall. Were they trying to kill themselves? Was there nothing else to do down here? Was death even an option for those people?

“I’m not sure.” Henry sighed. Sammy’s face wrinkled. 

“... I was like that.” It was almost a whisper. Henry could remember Sammy mentioning it earlier on, back before they had more or less given up on trying to figure their stories out and make them match up. “Would I have felt that?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Henry decided. Sammy looked at Henry, curiously and cautiously. “You’re human now. And once we get out of here -  _ with  _ Boris - we’ll get you back to your Studio.” Saying it over and over both made it seem simpler and like the most complicated thing he had ever attempted in his life. ‘Get out’. For all Henry knew the way out had collapsed or something. But he had to hope and pray that it was still there. The Sammy issue, well, at least that was a ‘we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it’ and seeing as this bridge they were currently on seemed unending, it wouldn’t do him any good to worry about that.

Sammy was quite for a moment, seeming to mull this over, and then glared up at the giant - perhaps the biggest Henry had seen in his time down here - Bendy statue. “What are you smiling about?”

“Probably your suffering.” Henry bent down to look at a thing at the statue’s feet. It looked kind of like an offering of some kind. He stood back up to find Sammy’s glare now directed at the writing on the wall.

_ ‘Come up and see me’ _

“If Alice wasn’t Susie, I’d wring her neck.” Sammy vowed. “Why does she have to be so damn creepy?” 

“Maybe the Susie part of her is messing with you?” Henry suggested. Sammy didn’t seem amused by that comment. 

“Let’s get this over with and get Boris back.” Sammy said, heaving a deep sigh, one hand gently touching ‘Susie’s halo. 

_ ‘Almost there’ _

Henry couldn’t help but to wonder if Susie wrote it there herself or if she just had the power to make words appear in ink. 

The stairs came to a landing, and Henry frowned at what he saw. He’d never seen these designs before. What had Joey been planning? Sammy, however, just groaned.

“I’ve sat through too many meetings about this place.”

“What place?” Henry’s hand ghosted over a picture that looked like it was a clocktower of some sort with Bendy’s face on it.

“Bendyland.” Sammy spat like it was poison on his tongue. “Joey and Bendy’s grand plan for a Bendy-themed amusement park.”

“I don’t think that’s such a bad idea.” Sure Bendy wasn’t popular enough to really warrant an amusement park, but Henry could see it being a grand idea. 

“Yeah,  _ you  _ wouldn’t.” Sammy huffed, clicking the play button on the cassette player and giving another loud groan at a voice that he obviously recognized but was new to Henry. Before the man had said much, Sammy clicked the player off. “We really don’t need to listen to ‘Bertie’ rant about his job. I’ve already sat through that enough.

“‘Bertie’?” Henry inquired. Sammy gestured to the pictures on the wall.

“Bertrum Piedmont. Some supposedly well-known big crazy machine designer and creator that Joey hired. The guy is annoying as hell and Joey managed to push all of the wrong buttons on him. God the man never stops complaining-”

“I wonder what that must be like.” Henry muttered. Gee pot, talking about the kettle, are we? Sammy just kept going like he hadn’t heard Henry.

“-and talking about how great and amazing he is. He’s on my list of people to murder if I had the chance.”

“A lovely list.” Sammy rolled his eyes. “So there’s a Bendyland where you come from.”

“No, thank god. Or at least, there’s not one yet. Bendy and Joey are pretty dedicated to making it a reality. You even agreed to help out with some of the designing and stuff where you could. It wouldn’t be Joey Drew Studio production if Henry Ross doesn’t have a hand in it.” Henry blinked at that. 

“... you really think I mean that much to the Studio?”

“Of course you do!” Sammy looked at Henry incredulously. “Hell, just look at what happened to this place with you gone!” And Henry did, turning to look at the sepia-color walls and the ink everywhere. He squashed down the rising sick-feeling that somehow he had caused this. Sammy didn’t mean it like that. Probably.

Sammy found and then pulled a switch. It seemed to be a fair rule of thumb down here that if you saw a switch, it was okay to pull it and would only bring good things with it. They could hear the sound of a door opening up below, and Henry remembered seeing a door labeled ‘Storage’ that they’d watched past in favor of following Susie’s ominous writing. 

“Ominous and dark. Just our luck.” Sammy stared through the opening. He nudged Henry. “Your turn.”

“Okay, my turn.” Henry took a few small, tentative steps forward. He could practically feel Sammy rolling his eyes behind him. As long as Henry was still alive, though, it didn’t really matter to him. After he got a couple steps into the room, the lights flickered on, revealing the new area they were in.

“You know what, I like that name better. One good thing did come from this place.” Henry actually agreed with Sammy on that one, looking up at the graffitied ‘Bendy Land’ sign modified to say ‘Bendy Hell’. “Do you think Susie wrote that too?”

“Could be them.” Henry nodded at the ink person sitting on the top of a cage, staring at them but not saying anything, hardly moving. Henry frowned a bit. Curious that for all of the cages they had seen in the last little while, they had yet to see anything actually inside of them yet. 

“Looks like it never made it out of the Studio here, either.” Sammy commented as they went down the stairs. It was like a storage room for the never-completed amusement park. “Got farther than my Studio, though.”

They wandered through the room, walking around creepy Bendy garbage cans, finding many closed doors and a couple of Miracle Stations that Henry made sure to mentally kept careful track of, just in case they ended up needing them. The attraction that stood out most was the haunted house. It’s doors were closed just like all of the others, and if Henry had to give a guess it was out of power. He and Sammy followed its cables to its power source, and each of those had a wire that lead to one of the four doors in the room. From there, though, it seemed to be a dead end.

“I can’t believe we’ve come this far and just ended up at a dead end. Maybe we should’ve tried to get out where the Ink Guy was in the vents, or where ‘Bendy’ was. At least if we got killed we’d be doing something productive trying to get out of the fish bowl.” Sammy grumbled. One of his hands was clenched into a fist and shaking angrily and Henry wondered if he’d end up being the recipient of the fist.

“Why don’t you try getting some of that pent up energy out?” Henry suggested, trying his best not to sound like a bad shrink. Sammy looked at him with a mix of a glare and curiosity. Henry gestured to the shooting game. Sammy snorted.

“Everybody knows those things are rigged. It’s just going to make me more frustrated.” Sammy pointed out ever as he walked over and picked up the gun. The attraction, amazingly enough, still worked, and Sammy proved to be quite the marksman, missing only one or two of the targets. Upon winning, there was a little chime that sounded a few more lights turned on. Henry jumped in surprise, blinking at them, and finally noticed the cassette player sitting between the shooting and bottle booths. 

“Wally always finds a way to mess with crap, doesn’t he?” Sammy said it like a bad thing, but there was a grin twitching at the edge of his mouth. Henry was all out smiling at the janitor’s voice. At least this time Wally’s crazy ideas were helping them out. Games that unlocked doors, huh? 

“I’ll trying hitting down the bottles, you do the strong-arm thing.” Henry suggested, already picking up the balls. When he missed too many the first time, he tried not to be surprised when the bottles set themselves back up into order. Just another crazy thing to add to the pile. The same chime sounded again once henry hit all three stacks down, the lightings flashing a bit as if congratulating him. He turned around and found Sammy still smacking the living daylights out of the other game. Surpringly enough, though it was clear Sammy had yet to beat that game, the door was already open.

“Hey, Sammy, we’re good to go.” Henry called. Sammy put down the mallet and kicked the base of the game. 

“I’m coming back for you, and then you’ll be sorry.” Sammy promised, picking his axe back up and stalking after Henry into the room. 

“I dare you to put one of those on.” Henry pointed at the Bendy costumes.

“Jesus, what were they trying to do? Scare kids until they laughed? Somebody should burn these things.” Sammy even went as far as ripping down one of the costumes and holding it over the candle on the desk. Henry pulled the power switch. Hopefully it would also give power to one of the other doors, or playing the games opened them all up. One way or another, Henry just hoped they hadn’t already hit another dead end. “Oh God it doesn’t even burn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, i"m still not sure when I'm going to be able to update on a schedule again? I'm going to back to whenever I have one completed. I'm still getting the hang of school and I just barely moved out so here's hoping it all goes good! Questions and comments are always very welcome :)


	15. Machine Beat Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow, getting beat up can actually injure people

Henry flipped the switch, directing the power into both the Haunted House and to - hopefully - the next door they needed to go through. Sammy was standing behind him, ax in hand as always. They hadn’t seen anything hostile in the warehouse yet, but the presence of the Little Miracle Stations left both of them on the tips of their toes. 

“Research and Design opened up.” Sammy reported.

“Good.” Henry sighed with relief. At least they now had a plan of how to go about this. Sammy brandished his ax defensively in front of himself. In the Research and Design room, Henry looked over the railing and down at the Charley, Barley, and Edgar, all standing and watching a fire burn. Henry would say they were warming themselves by it, but he still wasn’t sure they could actually feel anything. Maybe they were just mesmerized by it.

“About time we saw some action.” Sammy grunted and hefted his ax, heading for the stairs. “You stay up here, Henry, there’s nothing you can do.”

“Well I don’t know if I’d s-”

“Henry. You’re staying up here.” Sammy pointed the ax at Henry. “Don’t make me chop of your legs.”

“You wouldn’t.” 

“I grew up on a farm, Henry. Cows aren’t alive forever. I can stomach things you can’t even begin to imagine. Now stay safe dammit!” Henry made a face, not okay with letting his only ally brave some enemies alone, but stopped arguing. Sammy nodded and went down to face them.

It became obviously rather quickly that Sammy could not, in fact, take on all three of them. At least not when they had backed the composer into a corner. Henry cursed under his breath, pounding his fists on the railing and preparing to go down as the Charley look another swing at Sammy and he was only just barely able to block it with his ax. One of the random empty soup cans sitting on the railing fell to the floor and Edgar, who was at the back of the small pack, turned towards the noise. 

Henry looked across the railing, and sure enough there were many more cans. He grinned.

He didn’t have the best arm, but it was accurate enough to either hit one of the three or land near them, successfully distracting them and allowing Sammy to get some much needed hits in. They managed to make short work of three enemies. Once the last of the three had ‘died’, Sammy glared up at Henry.

“Don’t say anything.”

“I wasn’t going to.” Henry smiled innocently, finally joining Sammy on the lower floor. He kept a can on hand, just in case. There were two different passages they could go down, and they took the left route first. 

“Oh god.” Sammy whispered, looking sadly at the ink person behind the bars. They were weeping, similar to the one that they had seen before going through the grate. 

“Maybe they’ll recognize your voice too.” Henry suggested. Sammy looked at him like he was crazy. “What? It’s not like he can do a lot of damage from that side of the bars. You have an ax, and there’s only one of them this time.” 

“Fine.” Sammy grumbled, squatting down to be more on eye level with the ink person. He cleared his throat, which the ink person didn’t react to. “Uh, hey there. This is your… prophet? Speaking?”

The ink person’s sobs got a bit quieter, and they looked up a bit. When they saw Sammy, however, they sobbed louder and buried their head into their hands again. 

“You’re not him!!” 

“Well at least one of them gets it.” Sammy rocked back on his heels before straightening up. “That was loads of fun. Now is there a switch over here?” 

“Yeah,” Henry pulled down on the lever, “And another cassette. Who do you think it is this time?”

“God I hope it’s not Susie again.” Sammy sighed through gritted teeth. Henry hoped so too. Somewhat reluctantly, he clicked the play button. 

“Oh. Lacie.” Henry blinked in surprise. It was one of the many voices he hadn’t expected to every hear again. Upon her mention of it, both Henry and Sammy looked over at the automaton lying on the table. 

“Do all of these rooms have a freaky depiction of Bendy in them?” Sammy’s face wrinkled in distaste. “It looks like she never finished fixing him up, thank god. He’s missing an entire arm.”

“C’mon, let’s get out of here before it starts moving.” Henry kept his eyes on the automaton for as long as he could, not trusting the hunk of metal. The other passage held nothing of note besides another lever that Henry pulled. “Do you think that counts as one or two of the power sources?”

“With our luck? One.” Sammy snorted as the duo headed back into the main room, heading back to the levers. Sure enough, only one new one was lighting up.

“Well, at least we’re halfway there. Let’s figure out where the next room is.”

They wove through the boxes and shelves, and Henry sighed with relief to see another room was open. Sammy nudged his way in front of Henry, leading them into the new area. The musician relaxed a bit though when they reached the largest part of the room. 

“Huh. It’s just a ride.” 

Sammy walked over the cassette player while Henry went up to the ride, putting his hand on it. His brow furrowed as a chill ran up his spine. There was something odd about it, in a way almost contradictory to the strangeness of everything else down here. While most things things to draw Henry in, Henry felt almost repelled from the ride. He supposed it was a nice change from feeling like the ink was trying to drag him into it, and yet…

The voice that Henry recognized as being Bertrum came from the cassette player, but Henry wasn’t listening to it. Instead he busied himself with walking around the room and trying to find a switch. The small frown on his face deepened upon finding nothing.

“Hey Sammy,” Henry started, but didn’t get a chance to finish at the sound of the machine starting up, followed by a voice much louder and clearer than the cassette but still distinctly Bertrum.

“But I’m Still Here.”

Henry whirled around, gazing at the ride in horror. He could just make out a face staring at him from the center of the machine while the arms spun around. Henry looked over at Sammy as the man took a step away from the desk just as one of the arms slammed down, obliterating it.

“THIS. PLACE. IS. HELL!” Sammy shouted angrily like he was spitting venom out of his mouth. Henry nodded agreement as he kept close to the walls, running over to where Sammy was standing.

“Well, axe-guy, what’s the plan?” Henry asked. Sammy’s eyes darted around as he tracked the movement of the machine - Bertrum’s? - arms.

“Part one is you grabbing that axe.” Sammy pointed to an axe mostly hidden among the remain of the desk, the fragments of which were starts to loose their shape and bleed into the floor. “Part two… we’ll see when we get there.” 

The nice thing was that Bertrum’s attack pattern was predictable. After slamming his arms on the ground, the machine stopped for a moment like it was resting. That was when Sammy and Henry struck, going to town with the axe’s and trying to hit anything they could. Neither were quite tall enough to hit the face inside of the machine, so they went after the arms and the seats. 

“THE JOINTS!” Sammy shouted eventually. Not soon enough to warn Henry, however, as the arms spun around suddenly, knocking into him and sending him flying until he landed harshly on his back just outside of Bertrum’s range. 

“Joints. Got it.” Henry wheezed. “I think I’m going to just… rest here a bit.”

“Yeah rest up you old geezer.” Sammy slid to a stop next to Henry for a brief second while Henry rolled his eyes and give Sammy the bird. Then Sammy was off again. Slowly Henry got back to his feet, one of his hands holding his stomach where there was sure to be bruising. Sammy had taken out two more arms, leaving just the one left with blessedly rested right in front of him. A swing of the axe was all it took to take out of the joints on his side and Sammy was already on the other, breathing hard and he struck it down. 

“NO!” Bertrum screamed, parts spinning around pointlessly. “YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME! I WILL AVENGE MYSELF!!”

“Die, fucker.” Sammy growled, standing in front of Henry as it spun around tornado. Ink spilled from where the arms has once been, spraying them as it went. It came to a sudden stop as the face inside slumped down, eyes shut. The windows closed, blocking him away from view. “Yeah, stay dead.”

“Are you okay?” Henry put his hand on Sammy’s shoulder. The man was shaking slightly, all the more noticeable now that he was touching him. Sammy’s axe fell to the ground as his hands went up to hold his head. He took a few shuddering breaths, and Henry watched as the halo around Sammy’s neck dimmed a bit. Henry hadn’t noticed how bright it had gotten.

“... yeah, yeah I’m okay. Just, ugh, I don’t think ‘Susie’ liked him much. God knows I didn’t.”

“You said he was on your list of people to murder.” Henry reminded him. Sammy shoved Henry away before stooping down and picking up his axe.

“Well, now that that’s over, I don’t suppose there’s a magical switch that somehow appeared in all of that chaos?” Sammy looked around, the hand not holding the axe resting on the halo. Henry frowned. Alice may be one of the worst things down here, but Henry hoped they found her soon, and not just to find Boris. The sooner they found her, the sooner they didn’t have an unpredictable ink bit hanging around. Sammy threw his hands up in the air as he stalked over to a doorway that had opened up.

Henry stayed where he was, breathing in deep breaths. He didn’t think he’d broken anything, but it still hurt. He’d been sore and stuff down here, but anything major had actually killed him. He looked at Bertrum. It wasn’t moving anymore, and the feeling - or rather lack thereof - seemed to be gone now. 

“You okay Henry?” Sammy asked as he walked back over. Henry nodded.

“Yeah, I’m fine. A little banged up but I’ll live.” Sammy’s eyes lingered on Henry’s stomach, his hands still over it. 

“Well, if you say so. Let’s get going. There’s only one more. At least you have an axe now.” Henry grinned at that.

“Yeah, try and keep me out of trouble now.” Sammy made of face but didn’t comment. Henry followed after, wincing a bit as his legs protested. They went to the switches and pulled the third one. Henry leaned against one of the shelves. God, that did more damage than he thought it would. Sammy gave Henry another concerned look.

“... maybe you should sit this one out.” Henry jerked his head up to look at Sammy. 

“Wh-”

“You’re obviously in pain!” Sammy snapped back. “Whatever’s next is probably even worse than Bertrum, okay? We’re going to need to move fast and hit hard, and you probably can’t do that in your condition.”

Henry bit his lip, not meeting Sammy’s eyes. He’d promised to get Sammy out of here. But Sammy had a point. He wasn’t in terrible condition, but he was definitely moving slower and more gingerly than he had before. 

“Sammy, it’s dangerous down here-”

“And I’ve had to watch you die twice!” Sammy’s teeth clacked shut, eyes closed and expression tight. “I don’t want to do that again.”

“... okay, Sammy, I’ll stay back.” Henry relented. He let himself slide down to the floor. Sammy crouched down to be on eye level. Henry stared into Sammy’s exhausted stare.

“I won’t be long. You have an axe, you can defend yourself if something comes.” Sammy promised. 

“If you’re not back in half an hour, I’m going in for you.” Henry stared Sammy in the eyes.

“Fine.” Sammy nodded to Henry before turning around and walking away. Henry watched him go, hating himself just a bit for not following suit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoa, another chapter :D Sorry for the long wait. Updates are probably gonna be sporadic :P 
> 
> Concerning chapter five of batim, I probably won't be strictly following what seems to be canon. I'm probably going to play a bit fast and loose with the stuff that's presented there.


	16. The Minotaur 2: Electric Boogaloo

Sammy rolled his shoulders, eyes closed as he breathed out through his nose.

He allowed himself to lean against the wall, now that he was out of Henry’s line of sight. God he was tired. He shifted his grip on the axe’s handle, drawing in another deep breath as he composed himself. If there was another thing in here like Bertrum, there was no guarantee that he’d survive it. At least if he died from the injuries, he wouldn’t be in pain like Henry was right now, but the thought didn’t make him feel any better. He wasn’t eager to return to the ink either. That one time had been enough for him, and even then he’d barely made it out in just one pure Sammy piece. 

The halo sitting around his neck was a clear reminder of that.

Sammy pushed back off of the wall, cracking his neck and moving forward into the maintenance hallway. He made a quick note of the Miracle Station as he passed it. While they hadn’t had to make use of the ones in the main room, it would be only a matter of time before something started hunting him down. There was only one pathway forward, and Sammy’s nose wrinkled when he saw it was flooded with ink. He was halfway down the steps when he noticed the flickering light at the end of the hallway staircase was getting brighter.

Sammy held his breath as Norman lumbered past the hallway’s opening.

He wasn’t sure how the monster - the man? - had managed to get here, but seeing him made the axe in his hand feel heavier. In order to find the last switch, he’d had defeat Bertrum. Would he have to face off against Norman now? 

Sammy continued his descent, albeit much slower, and peeked into the room. There were two large trains in the room, making for easy cover from Norman’s light. As the Projectionist walked down the far left path, Sammy darted to the far right one, praying that his splashing through the ink wasn’t as loud as he thought it was. Hopefully if Norman saw him, he’d remember him, but it wasn’t a gamble Sammy was too keen on taking. His choice of pathway seemed to be a stroke of luck, and Sammy jogged over to the lever near the end of the path. The words ‘lift control’ were printed above it, and Sammy figured there could be no harm in pulling it. It had to do something. The lever moved down with a loud ‘thunk’, and Sammy jumped as a loud screech accompanied it. He whirled around to see the Projectionist running at him.

“NORMAN-”  Sammy lifted his ax, but he was too slow as the monster ran into him, light bright and almost painful. Two wet and inky hands grabbed Sammy around his torso, snapping his arms to his sides. The musician wriggled in the firm grip, kicking his legs as the Projectionist lifted him into the air, the light from his face only getting brighter.

All at once, the light diminished and Sammy found himself being pressed against ink and metal. Norman’s arms wrapped around Sammy, holding him close, and the speaker on his chest sent vibrations directly into Sammy. 

_ “SSSZAAMMMHHHEEEE!” _

“Hey there Norman.” Sammy kept his eyes shut so as not to get any ink in his eyes, and only opened his mouth the bare minimum to speak. He wiggled around more, trying to get loose of the Projectionist’s grip but no longer planning to swing his ax if he did. After way too long, Norman let go and stepped back. The projector that was his head didn’t show any facial expressions, but the guy seemed happy. 

_ “SSSZZZAMMMMKKKEEEWWWLLL.”  _ This staticky voice had decreased in volume, no longer threatening to break Sammy’s eardrums, but it still sounded off and hard to make out.

“Yeah, hi. Nice to see you again.” Sammy wiped some of the ink off his face and looked forlornly at his shirt. It had gotten some ink on it from fighting the Butcher Gang and Bertrum, but now it was pretty well and thoroughly soaked. “Look, I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got Henry waiting on me.” 

Sammy gave Norman an awkward smile, glad the guy wasn’t killing him but not knowing any more of what he should be doing with the guy. The halo around his neck was glowing again, a vague ‘flight’ instinct nudging at the back of his mind insistently, but he had the sense to shove it down and instead just slowly slog his way through the ink, saving his energy in case there was something else in this room to fight. 

He rolled his eyes as Norman followed him up a set of stairs. God knew his Norman wasn’t this clingy, like a lost puppy. Then again, who knew how much of Norman was even in the beast behind him. Sammy didn’t try and stop the guy, just ran a thumb along the halo in an effort to get rid of the nagging ‘run!’ and fear while he headed towards the switch that looked like all the others he and Henry had found.

This one, however, shut the lights out for a moment.

Fear of his own spiked through Sammy’s heart, hand tightening on his ax, ears strained to hear anything coming at him in the darkness besides another horrible screech from Norman. The lights flickered on a moment later, though, revealing that there was still only himself and Norman in the room (and, of course, the creepy trains). Norman’s hands were clutching at his head, the light of his projector off, flickering back on for a few seconds before returning to darkness. 

“Hey, you okay?” 

Norman was bent over enough that Sammy could put a hand on his head. The Projectionist flinched by didn’t draw away. He stilled for a moment, the sporadic flickers stopping. Then, dim at first and then slowly brightening, the light returned. Sammy let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and Norman straightened up, shaking his head as if clearing out the darkness. 

“I’ve got to get back to Henry now. You can join us if you want.” Sammy offered as he descended back into the pool of ink, Norman following behind still.

_ “ZZZSSSSTTT-HHHHHEIIIIIIIINNN.”  _ Norman hissed out

“Yeah, Henry Stein. You seem better in the head than the last time I saw you.” Sammy observed. He looked back and was a bit surprised to see Norman give him a jerky nod. 

Just as Sammy was starting think that, hey, maybe they  _ would  _ be able to save Norman on top of himself, Henry, Boris, and Suzy, Norman grabbed him again.

“Hey-” Sammy jerked about as Norman shoved him into the Miracle Station. Sammy turned around, ready to burst out and reprimand the Projectionist only to freeze upon seeing the spider-webbing ink that stretched around him. Norman seemed to be holding the door of the station closed. 

_ “ZZZZZSSSSSSAAYYYVVVVHHHHHH!”  _ Norman urgently cried. Sammy was as far back in the box as he could get, shaking with the fear of both himself and ‘Susie’, watching for the second time as the Ink Demon’s giant hand grabbed onto the head of one of his friends and jerked it to the side too far and too fast. 

Bendy didn’t stop there this time.

Sammy cringed farther back as if he could sink into the back of the station, eyes unable to stop looking as Norman’s head was torn from his body. The body fell limply to the ground - a sound that was oddly squishy. Bendy bent down, the pale yellow grin staring back at him. Something hit the box - it took Sammy a moment to realize it was Norman’s head. 

He collapsed down to the bottom of the Miracle Station.

Norman.

Norman was dead. 

oOo

Henry let himself rest, shoulders sagging, eyes closed, breathing deep.

Faint shadows drifted behind his eyelids, vague shapes of men in fatigues running by. He let them pass him by, not trying to parse out who they could be. He’d been tired enough to fall asleep rather easily before, but not only was he clearly out in the open - a very dangerous place to take a nap - but the upturned memories that he’d endured after the fall were once again attempting to torment him. 

He opened his eyes back up and pulled out the pen he’d made, shifting around so that he could more easily face the floor, groaning a bit as he back complained about the movement. He had never felt more his age than he did right now. He sketched idly on the floor, starting with the Bendy and Boris (they had both been on his mind after all) and then adding an on model Alice to the lot.

There was the sound of something fall and Henry shot to his feet, maybe a bit too quickly as his back reminded him of the reason he hadn’t gone with Sammy. He spun around, looking, trying to find what had made the noise. He didn’t dare call out and see if whatever it was responded - if he was lucky, it didn’t know he was here. 

Just like all the other times, it came on suddenly.

The world flashed, his senses suddenly and painfully overloaded. He put his hands futilely to his hands, the screeching seeming to be sent straight into his head.

_ HENRY! _

The name was loud, layered over like it was being screamed by a crowd of people. Henry’s eyes darted around the room, trying to find the sources of the voices. The world was shaking as if it was going to tear apart at the seams any moment now.

_ What are you?!  _ Henry couldn’t make the words come out of his mouth, but he thought them hard, projecting them like he had before when he was lost in the ink purgatory. 

_ Save us! _

_ SAVE US! _

_ FREE US! _

_ C R E A T OR! _

It all stopped and Henry fell forward, hands still on his ears, face impacting on the wooden floor painfully. He felt drained, exhausted, and it took everything in himself to not just curl into a ball forever. Instead, he managed to get himself to sit up. Every breath he took was shaky, his lungs glass that could in a second. The axe had fallen to the floor and with a shaking hand he picked it back up, fingers loosely closed around it. 

At least Sammy wasn’t here to see him like that again.

“We need to get out of here.” Henry whispered to himself, voice hoarse enough that one would think he had been screaming for hours on end. 

The pen was still on the ground where he’d drawn his doodles and he picked that up as well, putting it back into his pocket. His eyes glossed over the drawings and then refixed themselves on them. His heart stopped, a cold hand seizing it.

He hadn’t written any words. 

He knew he hadn’t, not while drawing, not during his ‘panic attack’. 

And yet, plain as day, there they were.

_ You draw beautifully  _

“Henry.”

Henry flinched with his whole body, like his skeleton was trying to jump out of his skin. Sammy came into view, looking just as exhausted as Henry felt. His pants were still dripping ink, leaving a trail behind him, ax in hand and luckily not somehow long again.

“Hey.” Henry croaked out. Sammy looked him over with a critical eye.

“You okay?” He asked. Henry nodded without a thought. This wasn’t something Sammy needed to worry about - Henry could deal with whatever this was on his own. 

“Are you?” 

Sammy turned his head away, hand reached up and grabbing the halo.

“Yeah. It was easy. Let’s just pull the last lever and get going.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol sorry for the long wait and the kinda short chapter


	17. Sammy and Henry Are Doing Fine

_ “Enter, dear wanderers, for the horrors inside will find you wherever you are.” _

Susie’s haunting voice bounced off the walls and sent shivers up Henry’s spine as he and Sammy finally entered the haunted house, climbing into one of the smiling bendy-themed buggies together.

“We’re running straight into the belly of the beast, aren’t we?” Sammy’s face was screwed up in a mix of anger, dislike, and acceptance. His ax was resting on his lap at the moment, but his hands were clenched into fists nonetheless, white-knuckled like the weapon was still in his hands. Henry held his ax in one hand while the other was braced on the edge of the buggy, tensed and ready to jump out - as best as his old and in pain muscles could - at a moment’s notice. 

“It’s not like we have a choice. And at least we’re getting closer to Susie.” Henry sighed, eyes darting down to look at the halo around Sammy’s neck. It was floating parallel to the ground with the barest of light coming from it. The farther they got in the tunnel, the brighter the glow became. 

_ “Now, the ride truly begins.” _

The ride, as if in response to Susie’s words but more likely due to her control, started forward with a clicking that Henry could feel.

_ “You’ve all come so far, it’s almost a shame. But for all your progress, I have made my own that I will see through to the end. Oh, how things have changed since our time in the studio. How things fell apart so fast.”  _ There was a cold laugh and Henry noted the stiffening of Sammy’s shoulders and, wrinkling of his nose, and the brief flare in ‘Susie’s’ light.  _ “But how much as really changed? You only ever got anywhere in the studio by manipulating people. If you want to survive, you have to take it into your own hands. I will be perfect. _

_ “Henry, why are you here?” _

Henry felt Sammy’s eyes on him and he met them. There was more curiosity in the gaze than judgement. The letter, now soaked in ink and illegible in his pocket, felt heavy.

_ “We all want to know why, after all these years, you finally returned. And Sammy… oh what I could learn from you. But before all of that, I have a surprise for you~” _

A gate before them bearing a skull swung open into a room, a grand chandelier hanging in the center. They both craned their necks, trying to see if they could spot anything or anyone in the room, but it was just them. The buggy made a circuit to another set of gates that opened for them, revealing only darkness. 

The buggy came to an abrupt stop, the front of the car tipped downward. Both Sammy and Henry scrambled out, axes in hand. The buggy was pushed back along the track, bringing first giant gloved hands into view, and then,

“Boris?” Sammy gasped, though the beast before them was hardly recognizable.

The wolf’s slim design was nowhere to be seen, almost like Boris’s head had been stuck onto a completely different character. Ink bubbled sickeningly across the toon’s exposed skin, and Henry was sharply reminded of the shuddering blob that had been Grant. Odd things stuck out of him, probably half-hearted attempts to keep him in one piece. And, held above his head by rods, was a halo, as good as a signature of Susie’s - No, Alice’s - handiwork

“We’re too late.” Henry said, backing away quickly from the beast. They had  _ slept  _ while Alice had done this to their friend, to the one good thing they’d managed to find down here. He pushed down guilt as best he could, knowing they had to focus on what was going on right now rather than what they could’ve done. 

“GOD DAMMIT!” Sammy shouted, dodging out of the way as the Boris threw the buggy towards him. It broke into pieces on the ground, the edges slowly turning to ink. Boris surged forward, knocking into a prop dresser and utterly destroying it.

“Boris, it’s us! Sammy and Henry!” Henry shouted desperately, but all it did was make Boris direct his next attack at Henry. The ink monster’s movements were clumsy but destructive, an armchair left absolutely decimated in his wake. Henry was able to get out of the way in time, Sammy running up next to him. “What do we do?”

“I think you know.” Sammy said through gritted teeth. Something cold sunk into Henry’s stomach. 

“But- Boris-“ Was all the protest Henry was able to conjure before Boris surged at them again. Sammy pushes Henry out of the way and the huge first hit him right in the stomach. “SAMMY!”

Sammy stayed down, curled around his stomach but still alive.

_ “Yes, tear them apart, my pet!”  _ Susie’s voice felt like it was pounding against his brain. Boris stalked towards Sammy, every step leaving a trail of ink that still poured off of him. It looked painful.

He didn’t have a choice, did he?

The first swing of his ax made Henry’s stomach do somersaults. It didn’t physically feel much different than attacking one of the ink-blob-searchers, but the knowledge that this was  _ Boris _ he was trying to kill made it seem so different. He managed to get out of the way as the beast howled, a sound that grated on Henry’s ears like an assault all on its own, and then smashed his fists downward where Henry had just been. 

The second swing was easier.

The feeling in his stomach had turned to numbing ice that froze over Henry’s heart. He was reminded that this wasn’t the first time he’d killed a sentient being. It wasn’t the first time he’d have to watch a friend of his die. He was able to get an odd sort of clarity, emotions momentarily pushed back and allowing him to swing the third time, the final hit. 

Sammy was coughing, starting to try and get back up though both of his hands were still wrapped around his stomach. But Henry didn’t spare more than a single glance at his friend as he watched Boris convulse for a moment, like he was struggling to breath, and then fall backwards. The ink poured off of him like oil out of broken drum. The wolf didn’t move again, form shimmering as the sepia-tones became ink, form falling apart and sinking into the Studio’s floor, leaving no sign that the toon had ever been there.

Henry was gasping for air and stumbled back a step. His back hurt. His chest hurt. His legs hurt. He was dimly aware he was crying, the ice inside of him beginning to melt and feelings returning to him. 

_ “NO NO NO NO!”  _

Alice’s distressed and angered shouts brushed through Henry, barely registering. 

“H-Henry,” Sammy wheezed and then broke into cough, a hacking sound shattered the rest of the ice and reminding Henry that they still had more to do. Henry’s attention snapped to Sammy. The halo around his neck was glowing brightly, not hanging from the musicians neck but floating.

“NO!” 

The scream was so close, no longer coming from the speakers, and when Henry turned around he saw Susie/Alice’s face contorted with rage as she sprinted to him. What exactly she intended to do, they would never know, as before she could reach Henry a sword of all things spilled through her chest.

“No…!” Sammy’s desperate and hoarse voice cried out. The sword slipped back out of Susie and she fell like a ragdoll to the floor.

And behind her was another Alice and Boris.

“That’s him, Tom.” The new Alice said and the Boris lifted the pipe in his hands. 

It came down hard on Henry’s head and he was engulfed in black nothingness.

oOo

Sammy was helpless to watch as the new Boris - who had a robot arm?? - hit Henry over the head with a pipe. Henry fell, just like Susie had just seconds ago, and the new Boris picked him up roughly, throwing him over a shoulder. There was a surly expression on his face that just didn’t fit the character of Boris. He nodded over to Sammy, looking at the new Alice.

“We’re not here for him.” She said.

“W-wait!” Sammy tried once more to get his feet under him. The two new toons didn’t pay him any mind, just walking through the gate that the monster Boris had come through. 

A sob tore its way out of Sammy’s throat and he fell forward, fists pounding on the floor. They’d come so far -  _ so godamn far! -  _ just to be broken up like this? Just to kill Boris? Just to kill Susie?!

Susie!

Sammy looked back up. Susie was still in one piece, she hadn’t dissolved into ink yet. There was still hope for her. 

He steeled himself, just barely managing to pull himself to his feet. Breathing hurt so damn much. It was like that time Sammy had tried to hide in the bull’s pen and had gotten rammed by the aggressive animal. He prayed he didn’t have any broken ribs. Or maybe it’d be better if he did and that killed him. God he was getting way too comfortable with the concept of himself dying. 

He managed to make it to her, kneeling next to her. She looked so little like Susie, so little like the Alice he knew back at his Studio.The left side of her face was still twisted, mangled. His reached up and brushed a hand along the edge of the halo, of the piece of Susie that he’d carried so far. He was greeted by a burst of emotion, desperation, like it knew that the rest of it was just right there. 

“You’re going to be okay, Susie.” Sammy said, not entirely believing it himself but hoping against hope he spoke the truth. He slipped the halo off of his head, holding it gently in his palms and lowering it towards her head.

The halo that Susie already had, sticking into her head, trembled before popping out with a sick kinda sound, the sound a shoe makes when wrenched free of mud. It collided with the halo Sammy was holding and he pulled his hands away. The glow of the two combined was too much to look at and Sammy was forced to shut his eyes.

When he opened them again, Susie was still… Alice. The halo was still there, the dress that was distinctly Alice’s was there. She was still lacking in normal skin tones. But her body was humanoid, more like Susie’s. The twisted part of her face looked more like an unfortunate scar. Her gloves no longer bled into her skin.

“Susie?” Sammy shook her shoulder. She groaned and turned a bit, but other than that didn’t react. His eyes fell to her chest, where ink was still seeping out at a steady rate. “Ink. You need ink.”

Of course, Sammy knew exactly where to find some ink. He’d been wading through it not too long ago, after all. 

The walk back through the haunted house was painful with every step, but at least he got used to the pain after some point. He was driven forward by the desire to find help for Susie. He’d managed to get the halo to her, to lose her now would be more than he would be able to take. 

He all but collapsed at the bottom of the stairs to the inky pool. He tried not to think of the smeared ink he’d seen on his way in, the last remnants of Norman.

“Fuck!” He snarled as he looked down at the ink. He only now realized he had no means to carry the ink with. Should he just soak as much of his clothes with it as he could and then squeeze it out onto Alice? Maybe he should’ve dragged her here. He wanted to scream, to cry out in frustration.

And scream he did when an inky hand grabbed his wrist.

He attempted to stand and immediately regretted it, pain lancing through his stomach. The grip on his wrist was strong, and he cursed himself for not having the forethought to bring his ax along with him. 

“Get off!” He shouted and tried to twist his hand out of the grip but to no avail. An inky being rose from the black pool and fear shot through Sammy. 

Another hand grabbed his other shoulder, vague fingers digging into and Sammy attempted to shake it off, but with no different results. 

All at once, the extra ink burst off of the monster, leaving only the very familiar before him.

“ZSAMUEL LAWRENCZE!”


End file.
